


The Stronger and Stranger It Becomes

by QueenOfTheDreamers (QueenOfDreamers)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Adultery, Amnesia, Bellamort, Bellatrix/Voldemort - Freeform, Death Eaters, Dominant Voldemort, F/M, Married Couple, Master/Servant, Memory Loss, Memory Magic, Obliviation, Submissive Bellatrix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-04-24 00:58:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 48,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14344626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfDreamers/pseuds/QueenOfTheDreamers
Summary: 1971. Bellatrix Lestrange is incapacitated and Obliviated by an Auror during a battle in Scotland. When Lord Voldemort realises just how extensive the damage is to her memory, he knows he'll have to work hard to regain his most ferocious little warrior. Along the way, an unsettling magnetism between the two develops, which proves to be... particularly problematic.





	1. Obliviate

**April, 1971**

" _Stupefy!_ Try to catch them alive, Mulciber!"

"Yes, Master!" shouted Mulciber from where he was dueling an Auror. Voldemort snarled and snapped his wand at the ginger-haired wizard who was taking on Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange at once, hitting the man with a powerfully-charged Knockback Jinx.

"Bella?" Rodolphus' voice rang out through the crisp Scottish air, and Voldemort whirled to see Pinky Tarlington, a skinny young Auror with short-cropped, icy blonde hair aiming her wand at an incapacitated Bellatrix Lestrange. Bellatrix's wand was clutched in Pinky's left hand, and by the look in Pinky's eyes and the twist of her wand, Voldemort realised at once what she was doing.

" _Avada Kedavra!"_  he screamed, half on impulse and half to cut off the horror of the memory wiping taking place. Pinky Tarlington crumpled to the ground after the flash of green light socked her in the chest, and Voldemort yelled, "Execute them all! Take them all out! No prisoners! Go!"

Suddenly his Death Eaters were patrolling the rolling hill, eliminating the Aurors who had come to raid Mulciber's home outside Aberdeen. One by one, all three of the other Aurors were eliminated.

"Vanish the corpses! Vanish the wands!" Voldemort yelled. "Don't leave a single trace of them!"

Mulciber and the Lestranges followed his orders immediately. It was sheer dumb luck that Rabastan Lestrange had been having whiskey with Mulciber when the first Auror had shown up. Both Rabastan and the Auror had called for reinforcements through their own means. Voldemort had been meeting with Rodolphus and Bellatrix to discuss plans to make Castle Lestrange an emergency meeting point, and so the three of them had rushed to Mulciber's house in Scotland. A small battle had broken out, a skirmish, and now four Aurors were dead.

Voldemort stood over the body of Pinky Tarlington and picked up Bellatrix's wand. He eyed her unmoving body and knew that Pinky had been in the process of destroying Bellatrix's memory. Why? Because then she'd be no good to Voldemort. It was brilliant, in a very infuriating way. He huffed and aimed his own wand at Pinky, Vanishing her body and her wand and leaving just a little impression on the damp grass where she'd been. He tucked Bellatrix's wand away and bent to pick her up.

"Is she alive, Master?" Rodolphus rushed over, and Voldemort murmured,

"She's Stunned. She was being Obliviated. I'm taking her to Malfoy Manor to examine her. Stay here with your brother and Mulciber to be sure no one else shows up. Come to the manor when you're sure it's all clear, and I'll tell you what I know."

"Yes, My Lord." Rodolphus bowed his head, misty raindrops falling from his thick, dark brown hair, and he squeezed Bellatrix's fingers before he trotted off to help the others cast protective enchantments around the area.

Bellatrix and Rodolphus were only nineteen, though they'd been married for nearly a year now. Theirs had been an arranged marriage, like most Pureblood unions, though they both shared a ferocious adoration of Lord Voldemort and his cause. They lived with Rabastan - a year older and very blissfully unwed - in Castle Lestrange, the old family home, which was the boys' now that their parents had been taken by a tropical case of Shira Plague on holiday.

Voldemort stared down at Bellatrix, who was thin and short, physically tiny but ferocious beyond measure, and wondered just how she'd let herself get Stunned. She'd probably been focusing on too many things at once. She was easily distracted in battle, Voldemort knew. It was her shortcoming. He cradled her in her arms and shook his head in frustration, Disapparating and taking her with him. He walked briskly through the enchanted gate of Malfoy Manor and stomped up through the garden, up through the doors that had been charmed to open just for him.

"Tea, Dobby, in the burgundy suite," he ordered the House-Elf, who just stammered an assent and pattered away. Voldemort carried Bellatrix through the narrow, dark corridors of Malfoy Manor, past whispering, curious portraits. He carried her past his office, past the large dining room they used for meetings. He carried her past the formal lounge and the library, and then he climbed a flight of winding stairs. She was so petite that it was like she weighed nothing in his arms, and he took a moment as he climbed to study her face. She was rather pretty, he thought distantly. He'd never noticed that; he'd been too focused on how vicious she was.

He wandlessly flung open the door of a guest suite that was decorated in burgundy and gold - Gryffindor colours, as though that mattered. He carried her through the small sitting area and into the formal bedroom with its ivory-painted sleigh bed and its heavy deep red curtains throughout. He set her on the bed and used his wand to illuminate all the sconces and lamps he could until the room had a warm, golden glow. He pulled up a decorative brocade chair beside the bed and sat.

Dobby came clattering into the room with a tea cart, and Voldemort wordlessly poured himself a warm cup of oolong. It had been fiendishly cold and wet in Scotland, and he sipped the tea for a moment as he stared at Bellatrix. He took in the sight of her full, pink lips, her narrow little nose, and he considered that she still looked awfully young for someone so very adept at killing and torturing. He aimed his wand toward the main door of the suite and said blandly,

" _Accio_ Draught of Peace."

He'd need that, he thought, because he knew Bellatrix well enough to know that she'd panic if she woke up and didn't know what was going on. He had her wand, but she'd still panic, and that wouldn't do. He'd have to dose her before he woke her. It wasn't exactly ethical, but, then, he was not exactly an ethical man.

The bottle of potion came soaring into the bedroom, having arrived up from the stores downstairs, and he caught it deftly in midair. He pulled out the stopped and used the glass dropper to deposit four drops - a large dose - between Bellatrix's lips. He stopped the bottle up and put it on the tea cart, giving the potion a moment to sink in, and then he aimed his wand at Bellatrix's chest, and a red light glowed as he said softly,

" _Rennervate._ "

Bellatrix blinked her eyes slowly and took a long, deep breath. She seemed a little confused then, tipping her head to the side, but the Draught of Peace measured any panic she might have experienced. Voldemort cleared his throat and asked as gently as he could,

"Do you know your name?"

"Bellatrix," she said at once, and Voldemort thought perhaps Pinky Tarlington hadn't gotten very far after all with the Obliviation. But then Bellatrix murmured, "I know your face, but I don't know your name. Who are you?"

His stomach sank, and he sighed. "Do you know your husband?"

Bellatrix blinked. "Have I hit my head? Are  _you_  my husband?"

Voldemort pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head a little. He met Bellatrix's eyes, narrowing his own, and he asked her seriously,

"When were you born?"

"Nineteen fifty-one," she said confidently, her voice a little higher and weaker than he was used to hearing it. He huffed.

"What date in nineteen fifty-one?"

She hesitated and shook her head, and then her eyes welled. "Where am I?"

Voldemort licked his bottom lip carefully. Did she even know what magic was? He told her, "You have been Obliviated. Do you know what that means."

She nodded vigorously. "I've had my memory wiped."

He gave her a patient nod and informed her,

"I am a Legilimens. Do you know what that means?"

Bellatrix concentrated hard, and then gasped. "You can read minds."

"Something like that," Voldemort said. "It will help me greatly to understand the damage of what's been done to you, Bellatrix, if I can comb through your mind a bit. It will feel uncomfortable, a little invasive. But I need you to relax. Just lie back and shut your eyes and relax, all right?"

"All right." She nodded, but then the door to the bedroom swung open, and Rodolphus Lestrange came bursting in.

"Is she all right, Master?" Rodolphus demanded. He rushed over, looking relieved, and he seized Bellatrix's hand in his. He kissed her knuckled and exclaimed. "Bella. I was so worried about you."

Bellatrix snatched her hand back and seemed very afraid, shaking her head. Rodolphus' eyes glazed with realisation, and he whispered to Voldemort,

"She doesn't know me."

"I was just about to determine what she does know when you came barging unannounced into the room," Voldemort said with lethal calm, giving Rodolphus a glare.

"I apologise, Master." Rodolphus bowed his head, and he said in a stilted, polite voice, "I hope you feel much better very soon, Bellatrix."

"Thank you." She seemed alarmed then, so Voldemort impatiently opened the bottle of Draught of Peace and wordlessly encouraged her to take a few more drops. She didn't question him; she seemed to know what the potion was and seemed to want its effects. Rodolphus gave a mournful look over his shoulder as he left the room, and once Voldemort knew he had the place to himself, he told Bellatrix again,

"Just lie back and shut your eyes."

She did as he said, lacing her fingers together over her belly and closing her eyes as he whispered,

" _Legilimens._ "

_He could see whispers of a childhood, but nothing discrete. There was a woman and a man - people Voldemort recognised as Druella and Cygnus Black, but they had no names in Bellatrix's memory. There was one sister remembered, a little tiny blonde baby. Narcissa. Andromeda was entirely absent. Bellatrix's years at Hogwarts were reduced to a scant few Potions lessons and the Sorting Hat ceremony. She knew she'd been a Slytherin. All spells and magical knowledge was untouched._

_She remembered her mother telling her she'd been matched to a handsome Pureblood boy. She remembered staring at her reflection on her wedding day. She knew nothing of the man she'd married. She did not know Rodolphus' name or face. She knew nothing of Castle Lestrange. She remembered a dance, a specific dance with a specific man - the same man who was searching her head right now. She'd danced with him at her wedding, and he'd congratulated her. Was he her husband, her father? She didn't know._

Voldemort pulled out of Bellatrix's mind, shocked by how much was missing. This wasn't the sort of damage he could just undo. He couldn't make her remember her childhood, or her wedding to Rodolphus, or why she'd become a Death Eater. Those memories were gone now.

He stared at her for a moment and considered whether he ought to just kill her. But the thought of doing that made his stomach twist strangely. She'd been very loyal to him ever since her sixth year of school, since the moment he'd allowed her to begin serving him. He cleared his throat gently, prompting her to open her eyes, and he instructed her,

"Look at your left arm, Bellatrix."

She did, peeling back the sleeve of her black tunic. She stared in surprise at the Dark Mark there, and he told her,

"That Mark was put upon you as a sign of undying loyalty to me. You are my servant. You are my soldier. You were Obliviated in battle fighting for me. You swore allegiance to me, and regardless of what's happened to your memories, I hold you to that oath. Do you understand?"

She sat up slowly, staring him right in the eye, and she shrugged helplessly.

"Who are you?" she asked, and he met her gaze as he informed her crisply,

"I am Lord Voldemort."

He needed a Pensieve, he decided at once. Some things were beyond explaining. He touched the tip of his wand to his own Dark Mark, making hers sear hot and black, and she gasped in shock. She eyed him with a mix of curiosity and fear, clutching her left arm, and she asked,

"Who was that other man?"

"Your husband," Voldemort said, somewhat dismissively. "Rodolphus."

Bellatrix looked almost disappointed, but she nodded. She stared at the angry tattoo on her arm and said determinedly,

"Right. If I'm a soldier, and I got Obliviated in battle, then this is a war wound, and I must begin healing, mustn't I?"

Voldemort smirked and nodded. "There she is. There's my Bellatrix. You'll be fine."

**Author's Note: No, my hypergraphia wouldn't let me wait a whole week to begin a new Bellamort story. But my schedule is righteously insane over the next week, so please bear with me if updates are once a day at best and more likely every other day over the next week. They'll go back to the usual frequency after that.**

**This will likely be a 100k word epic; I have some crazy ideas for this one. Please do review if you're reading; it's appreciated beyond measure. Thank you!**


	2. Pensieve

Bellatrix stared at her reflection in the mirror in the bathroom. Malfoy Manor, she'd been told. This giant place was called Malfoy Manor. It belonged to the Malfoy family. She was from the Black family, and she'd married into the Lestrange family.

Married.

She combed through her damp curled with the wide comb that had been in the cosmetics kit her husband Rodolphus had sent over for her. All of her 'usual things,' Rodolphus had said, and it made sense. She had curly hair, and this comb was perfect for her curls. She liked the look of it, too, with its inlaid mother-of-pearl. Had Rodolphus bought her this comb?

Bellatrix gulped and tied her hair into twin braids, pulling a white nightgown over her head and then a heavy velvet dressing gown around herself. She tried not to feel afraid. She was a soldier, they'd told her. She was a fighter who'd been attacked in a battle. Her mind had been wounded by an enemy. She was brave, they'd said, so she must be brave now.

She walked out of the bathroom and froze, for the man she now knew to be Lord Voldemort was standing in the burgundy bedroom where she'd spend the last two nights.  _Sir_ , she'd been told to call him, or better yet,  _My Lord_. He was very important, Rodolphus had assured her. He was the leader of a movement to restore Pureblood supremacy, and both Rodolphus and Bellatrix were soldiers for him.  _Death Eaters_. Bellatrix bowed her head as she walked out into the bedroom, and Voldemort said to her,

"I have come into possession of a device called a Pensieve through an old acquaintance of mine - a man who procures rare items. Do you know what a Pensieve is?"

The word sounded familiar, but Bellatrix blinked quickly and felt very stupid all of a sudden. She felt a wisp of something, a professor at her school, Hogwarts, saying something about a Pensieve. She couldn't quite place it. She opened her mouth, struggled for a moment, and finally admitted,

"No, sir. I don't know. I'm sorry."

"It's all right," he assured her. He crossed his arms over his chest and said, "A Pensieve is a device used to store and review memories. I can not restore anything to you that I myself do not not know. I can inform you about your sister Andromeda, but I can not give you back memories of your childhood with her. I can tell you that you spent seven years in a Slytherin girls' dormitory, but I know nothing of what happened there. What I can give you are the memories I have in common with you, to try and build up your life as a Death Eater again."

"Oh. That sounds helpful," Bellatrix nodded. Voldemort gestured to her, and she followed him through the bedroom and out into the suite's sitting room. As they walked, Voldemort said,

"Rodolphus can repeat this process, though his memories with you are personal, and mine take precedence in restoring you as a soldier."

"I understand… erm… My Lord," Bellatrix said, and he smirked at her as he glanced over his shoulder.

"Quick learner." He sat on a sofa and gestured for her to sit opposite him, and she was awed by the basin on the low table between them. It was a shallow bowl carved with glimmering silver runes. Inside was a glistening, rippling material that seemed lost between liquid and gas. It was a silvery substance, and Voldemort informed Bellatrix,

"Today we will be revisiting your wedding day. I feel it is important, because you remember scraps of it. You recall seeing yourself in your gown. You remember dancing with me. It will allow me to show you names and faces, and for you to see your family. So… let us go there. Lean down."

"What?" Bellatrix was confused, but she watched Voldemort descend, dipping his face into the Pensieve, and she hesitantly followed suit. When she did, she felt like she was tumbling, whirling, spiraling through a heavy emptiness. Then, suddenly, she seemed to have landed in the middle of a scene.

The colours were a little washed out, and nobody seemed to have noticed the way that a girl in her dressing gown and a middle-aged wizard had landed smack in the middle of an elaborately-decorated gothic ballroom. Bellatrix looked around and whispered,

"Can they not see or hear us?"

"No. This is a memory," Voldemort said simply. Bellatrix nodded and studied the arched rafters, the banners that read  _Black_  and  _Lestrange._  She nodded.

"This is Castle Lestrange," she guessed. "This is where I live."

"Right," Voldemort nodded. "Your parents live in a fine home in London, but the wedding was far too grand for a place like that. There are your parents over there. The ceremony's already happened; I arrived afterward. I never like to watch the ceremony. It's too maudlin."

"That's my mum and dad?" Bellatrix asked, walking toward them a little. She tipped her head, studying the stout man with his thinning hair, the thin woman with bobbed black hair whose face so resembled hers. There was a twiggy blonde girl beside them, and a slightly taller, bored-looking brunette. Narcissa, the baby. Andromeda, the one Bellatrix couldn't remember at all.

"Bellatrix!"

She whirled around to see someone giving her - the her wearing a bustled, beaded white gown - a warm embrace. It was an older woman, and Voldemort plugged in,

"Your grandmother, Irma Black."

"Oh." Bellatrix nodded, and for a while, she just watched the wedding happen. Voldemort pointed out people in his own conversations. There were some fuzzy spots in his memory, some entirely blank spots, and then things got sharp again when Bellatrix and Rodolphus took the floor for their first dance. Bellatrix watched herself smile up at Rodolphus, who was tall and handsome, and she asked Voldemort plainly,

"Do I love him?"

"I have no idea," Voldemort replied, his voice bland. "How would I know?"

She stared up at him, at his face that seemed tired and nicked and pulled. He was handsome, too, but he looked beleaguered by some sort of conflict Bellatrix didn't know. She found herself watching him instead of herself, until she finally tore her eyes onto the memory of her sharing her first dance with her husband. She studied her own face and finally shook her head.

"I don't love him," she said. "I can see it in my own eyes. I'm fond of him. Friendly with him. But I don't love him."

"All right," Voldemort shrugged from beside her, sounding entirely unaffected. But then the song ended, and the shadow of Lord Voldemort stepped up in his tuxedo robes and took the next dance from the bride. Bellatrix's breath hitched as she watched him sweep her into his arms, and suddenly he told her,

"I think we've seen enough."

"Wait, please." Bellatrix watched him sway with her as other couples joined them on the dance floor. Rodolphus was dancing with Bellatrix's mother, Druella. Bellatrix was smiling up at Voldemort, nodding. He was staring down at her with an odd look in his eye. Sorrow? Regret? It wasn't a happy look, though he was forcing a tiny smile onto his lips.

"Enough," he whispered from beside her, but Bellatrix just studied their faces, taking a few steps toward them. From behind her, Voldemort snapped, "Enough, Bellatrix."

She knew why he wanted her to stop staring. But why had he brought her to this memory? Had he not realised the way he'd been staring at her? Had he not realised the way she'd been staring at him? She hadn't look at Rodolphus with anything resembling this sort of -

"I said  _enough_."

Bellatrix coughed and sputtered as she was yanked up and out of the Pensieve. She glared at Voldemort across the little table and demanded,

"If you didn't want me to see the memory, then why did you take me to it?"

"You saw plenty, little girl," he snarled, and he ordered her, "Go to bed."

"I'm not tired!" Bellatrix scoffed, and he shrugged.

"Go read a book, then."

"No, thank you." Bellatrix crossed her arms over her chest, and Voldemort's eyes flashed as his cheeks reddened. He spoke through clenched teeth then as he reminded her,

"I am your master. Do as I say."

"Right now, you're just rather an arse," Bellatrix informed him, and then she gasped, for he'd flung her onto the ground with wandless magic. Bellatrix glared up at him from where she lay, from where he'd tossed her off her chair, and as she scrambled to her feet, she shook her head and insisted,

"Well, I don't know what that silly little bride was so enamoured with. You're a right git, you know that?"

She stomped into the burgundy bedroom in which she was essentially being held prisoner, slamming the door shut behind her and deciding that this man, this  _Lord Voldemort_ , would have to earn it if he wanted her to call him  _Master_.

**Author's Note: I was able to get one more brief chapter up tonight! Woo hoo! So, Voldemort's not only going to have to get Bellatrix back in fighting form and working order; he's going to have to earn back her Death Eater-level loyalty. Uh-oh. As always, thanks so much for reading and reviewing.**


	3. She Punched Me

"She is… volatile," Voldemort informed Rodolphus, folding his hands and staring across his desk in his office. Rodolphus nodded, holding a washcloth enchanted to stay chilled up to his cheekbone.

"She punched me, Master.  _Punched_ me. All I did was go in there and try and wish her a good morning. I gave her a little kiss on the cheek to wake her, and she  _punched_  me."

Voldemort shrugged. "She does not know you. I took her into the Pensieve to your wedding day. You were a stranger to her. If it's any consolation, she'd never even heard of Andromeda. She saw her grandmother speak with her at the wedding and had no idea who Irma Black was. She has treated me with… well, let's just call it a lack of a respect that I chalk up entirely to her memory being gone."

"And there's no chance of actually restoring a genuine sense of memory in her?" Rodolphus lowered the chilled washcloth, revealing a cheekbone that would badly need some Butterfly Weed Balm. Voldemort shook his head.

"Her memory was really and truly wiped. Short of torturing her, which is ill-advised, there is really nothing we can do besides rebuild her or eliminate her. I am willing… theoretically… to do either."

Rodolphus' mouth dropped open, and he whispered, "Mercy, Master. Please."

"I am disinclined to execute her," Voldemort said in a clip, and relief washed over Rodolphus' face. Voldemort remembered what Bellatrix had said about her own self at her wedding. She hadn't loved her husband. Had she loved him by the time she'd been Obliviated? Did Rodolphus love her? Did any of that matter at all? Voldemort let out a long sigh and told Rodolphus,

"I'll work on her today. She's like a dragon in need of training. I'll show her some more memories. A battle where she was brave. Remember that time in Wales where she Stunned three people all on her own? It was just you and me and her there, and you and I were caught up in duels, and she Stunned them all on her own. I'll show her that, see how she takes it."

"Yes, Master. Thank you." Rodolphus touched at his cheekbone, and Voldemort instructed him,

"Get some Butterfly Weed Balm on that. It'll be fine."

He strutted out of his office and through the corridors of Malfoy Manor, knowing that Bellatrix was up in the burgundy suite. He'd ordered her to stay put until they had her memory in some semblance of working order, for it was dangerous for her to be out and about when she didn't know who people were. Thankfully, when he came into the suite, she was staring out the window, wearing a long, black velvet dress, her curls tied into a loose braid, and she asked in a snarl,

"Come to kiss me again, Rodolphus?"

"It's me," Voldemort said, and as she turned round, she warned him,

"I'll punch you, too."

He just sighed and shut the door, moving to sit on the sofa in the little parlour. He concentrated hard on the battle in Wales the winter before. It had been snowing lightly. He could see the whole scene now, and he drew the memory out with his wand and dragged it into the Pensieve. He beckoned for Bellatrix to come near him, and he promised her,

"I'll let you see the entire thing this time. I promise."

She chewed her lip where she stood by the window, until finally she came walking very determinedly over, sat quickly on the chair opposite Voldemort, and took firm hold of the Pensieve. She plunged her face down into the milky, silvery substance, and he was surprised by her enthusiasm. He followed her into the Pensieve, descending with her as they fell with the snowflakes, down over the craggy moor until they landed in the middle of some dead grass and black rock. Bellatrix looked around the frigid scene, though she and Voldemort were warm as shadows in this memory, and she asked,

"Where are we?"

"Wales," he informed her. "It is December of 1970, a few days before Christmas. You and Rodolphus and I received a tip that an Auror was hosting a small get-together at his house here in the countryside, and we decided to investigate. Watch what happens."

"Why didn't we bring more?" Bellatrix asked him, turning her face as snow swirled round her, and Voldemort shrugged.

"I did not think there would be so many of them," he admitted. "I was wrong. This was our first major battle. We were ill-prepared. Well. You weren't."

Bellatrix frowned but watched as she, Rodolphus, and Voldemort circled around the outside of a thatched-roof cottage. Finally, Voldemort set fire to the thatched roof, and after a few moments, the smoke and heat drew out everyone inside, their wands drawn. Spells started flying at once, but the ratio was off. There were five inside the Auror's cottage, and there were only three on Voldemort's side.

"That's Alastor Moody I'm fighting," Voldemort informed Bellatrix. "You see how he dodges Killing Curses by Disapparating? Tricky bugger. He consumed my attentions. Rodolphus is dueling Gideon Prewett. Young, your age, but a fierce fighter."

Bellatrix watched as Voldemort tossed one green-lit spell after another at Moody, who threw Blasting Curses in response. Voldemort tried fire; he was dueling fiercely. Rodolphus was using hexes against Gideon Prewett, who almost hit him with a Knockback Jinx. But then her eyes turned to herself, and she seemed to realise she was taking on three at once.

"That's the same Auror who Obliviated you," Voldemort informed her. "That skinny blonde one. It was her house. Pinky Tarlington. I killed her when she Obliviated you. The two beside her Fabian Prewett, Gideon's brother, and Minerva McGonagall. You might not recognise her, but she was your Transfiguration professor at Hogwarts. An ally of my sworn enemy, the school's headmaster, Albus Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore. I know that name," Bellatrix breathed. "I know his face. McGonagall. She… I remember her changing a mouse into a bell. That's Transfiguration."

Voldemort curled his lips up a little and said quietly, "Just watch. Watch what you do."

Moody Disapparated over to Gideon Prewett, who was still battling Rodolphus Lestrange, and he growled in a low Scottish brogue,

"Let's get the bloody hell out of here and warn Dumbledore!"

The two of them disappeared by Side-Along, and Voldemort snarled in frustration. In the memory, he and Rodolphus raised their wands to help Bellatrix, but she stamped her foot and screamed, letting out an enormous burst of magic that sent a huge wind blowing around her as she screamed,

" _STUPEFY TRIO!_ "

There was a fantastic explosion of blue light then, and Bellatrix flicked her wand toward each of her three enemies. Voldemort - the one in the memory - had his face illuminated by the flash of blue, and Rodolphus looked shocked as all Tarlington, Prewett, and McGonagall soared and tumbled backward from the force of Bellatrix's unhinged spell.

"Bella!" Rodolphus called, and Bellatrix looked up with a smirk on her face. Her curls blew around her, and the snow began to pick up. Her cloak billowed and snapped in the wind, and she stalked toward her husband and her master. Voldemort seemed in awe of her, and he blinked a few times as he informed her,

"Well, that was impressive."

She smiled at him, her eyes wide and filled with something Voldemort had not noticed the first time round. She was incredibly happy that he was pleased with her.

"Let's get out of here, Bella; Moody's gone to fetch Dumbledore," Rodolphus was saying. The Voldemort in the memory cleared his throat and nodded. He cast a few incendiary charms at the cottage, setting fire to it, and decided to let it burn whilst their three enemies were Stunned. Let them wake and tell Dumbledore what had happened.

Voldemort gently pulled out of the Pensieve, urging Bellatrix to come with him, and when they sat up in the parlour in Malfoy Manor, she seemed awestruck. She rose from where she sat and walked back over to the window, and for a long moment, she just stared outside. Voldemort sighed and stood, padding over to her and standing beside her.

"You have been, since the earliest days of your servitude, my most fearless warrior," he told her. "I am unwilling to accept that a memory alteration will lose me that warrior."

She turned her face to him, looking awfully pretty all of a sudden in a way that took Voldemort very much off-guard. He gulped, and she noted,

"I fought like that often?"

"Not always so spectacularly, but not every battle can be a show," Voldemort teased. He leaned back against the wall, folding his arms over his chest. He licked his bottom lip and informed her, "You left quite a bruise on your husband's cheek this morning."

"I was uncomfortable being kissed by a man I do not know," Bellatrix told him, and Voldemort nodded.

"I understand. But he is your husband. Would you like him to operate the Pensieve with you so that you can get to know him again?"

Bellatrix hesitated. "It's not the same, is it? Showing me a memory isn't the same as  _knowing_  the memory. It's like you said; it's reviewing it. I'll have to begin again with Rodolphus. Thankfully, it was an arranged marriage, so I'm sure it was awkward from day one. I just wish you'd been honest with me about you and I."

Voldemort was silent for a moment, and then he shrugged and shook his head. "I'm not sure what you're talking about."

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. She gave him a heavy look and said,

"It is  _very_  obvious from both memories that you've shown me that something existed between you and I. It's plain to see in both our eyes, at the wedding and the battle, and I was paying  _very_  close attention. Why wouldn't you just tell me?"

"There is nothing to tell," Voldemort insisted defensively, tightening his arms. He felt very uncomfortable all of a sudden. He had never, to the best of his knowledge, lusted after Bellatrix Lestrange. He had looked at her with great admiration, perhaps. He had stared at her in wonderment, for she embodied everything he wanted a Death Eater to be. She was pretty, and he'd noticed that a few times. But he had hardly spent the last few years ogling her. She was married, and exceptionally young, and she was his servant. Voldemort scowled at her now and said again, "There is nothing to tell; there has never been anything between us."

"All right." Bellatrix sounded very sceptical, and Voldemort suddenly threw his hands up and lost his temper.

"What, you think that you and I were having some sort of sordid affair leading up to your wedding day? You think I carried you in here after you were Obliviated because I was in love with you? You must think  _awfully_  highly of yourself, Madam Lestrange. I danced with my servant on her wedding day to congratulate her. I attended to my servant after a battle accident so I could get my warrior back in fighting strength. I wouldn't have half a notion what you taste like in a kiss, Madam Lestrange, so you can just go ahead and stop giving yourself so much damned credit."

She raised her eyebrows at him, taking a step back from the window, and she noted softly,

"You're awfully upset about this."

"Go to your room," he snapped, and she laughed softly.

"Are you my master, or my father?"

His cheeks went hot, and he started to storm out of the sitting room. Bellatrix called frantically after him,

"Wait!"

He whirled around, prepared to slam her against the wall, but she trotted up to him and said rather contritely,

"I'm sorry. It is very confusing for me right now. I feel like an idiot, like I don't know anything. So I'm lashing out a bit, and I do apologise if you're used to me being more respectful than I'm being now. I can see from the memories that I served you loyally. I'll do so again. I promise."

Voldemort reached for her left arm, sliding back the sleeve of her velvet dress. He dragged his thumb over her Dark Mark, making it burn, and she hissed a little as she nodded. She raised her dark eyes to him and said,

"You'll have your warrior back. And I believe you. I believe you that you haven't got any idea what I taste like in a kiss. I wish Rodolphus could say the same. If you could kindly ask him not to touch me until I'm a bit more comfortable, I'd appreciate it."

"Of course." Voldemort pulled down the sleeve of her dress and lowered her wrist, though he didn't let go. He took a half step closer to her, his heartbeat accelerating a little as Bellatrix gave him a confused, defiant sort of look. He tipped his head and whispered, "You saw the memories for yourself, and you reached your own absurd conclusions. If your master kisses your cheek the way your husband did, will you punch him?"

Bellatrix hesitated, but then she shook her head and let her mouth fall open a bit as she murmured, "No."

Voldemort bent down and cupped her jaw in his hand, brushing his lips gently against her cheekbone. He lingered there for a moment, breathing in the scent of rose, and then he stood again. She was pretty, he thought suddenly. He nodded down at her and affirmed,

"I'll have my warrior back. I'll return later tonight to revisit another memory. Get some rest and some food."

"Maybe I will," Bellatrix nodded, her face stony, and Voldemort smirked as he turned and walked quickly out of the suite.

**Author's Note: Huzzah for brief writing respites among the chaos! Please do leave a quick review if you get a moment. I am really psyched for this story. Mwah hahaha.**


	4. Star-Struck Little Girl

"Rodolphus?" Bellatrix was surprised when the figure to knock on and walk through her door later that day was her husband and not her master. She gulped when she saw his bruised face, and she said half-heartedly, "Sorry for punching you."

"It was inappropriate of me to kiss you without asking," Rodolphus admitted. "You don't know this, but I have spent many days of the last year giving you a kiss in the morning to say hello. I thought I was being cheeky. No pun intended."

Bellatrix smirked a little, realising she'd probably had sex with this man. No, she definitely had. They were married, after all. She only vaguely knew what sex was. She had lost her experiences, it seemed, but her skills and knowledge had remained almost entirely intact. She frowned as she thought about what the matron at Hogwarts had taught the girls about sex. She couldn't remember the specific lesson; the memory of actually learning it was gone. But she knew that it involved a wizard putting his erect penis inside a witch's vagina, and that if he climaxed within her, she could become pregnant. Bellatrix sighed a little and decided to broach something no one had brought up yet.

"Do we have a baby, you and I?"

"Oh. Erm, no," Rodolphus assured her, shaking his head vigorously. "The Dark Lord wants us to wait until after the war's won. We have to spend our time and energy fighting for him; you can't be consumed with childbearing. He insisted that you take a Contragravidare Potion when we were married. It works for five years, you know?"

"I think someone told me that once, but I can't remember who," Bellatrix said. She blinked a few times and swallowed hard, raising her eyes and studying Rodolphus. He was young like her; she'd been told that they were the same age. Nineteen. Rodolphus was tall and lanky with thick, dark brown hair, pale freckles on his milky skin, and glimmering hazel eyes. His features were kind, but he'd been a fierce soldier, too. She'd seen it. Could she  _want_  him the way a wife was meant to want a husband? She needed to figure that out quickly.

She walked across the room, striding up to Rodolphus and reaching up to hold his face. But she asked him seriously,

"In the memories, I stared at him with want in my eyes."

Rodolphus flinched beneath Bellatrix's touch, and he stammered,

"You… you've admired him for a long time. I wouldn't know if the two of you… it wouldn't be my business."

"No?" Bellatrix asked lightly, and Rodolphus shook his head.

"No, of course not. He's our master. And, anyway, you and I are in an arranged Pureblood marriage. I'm sure you know what that means."

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes and thought hard. She shook her head, confused, and then pulled her hands away. She cleared her throat a little, thinking of how she intellectually knew that many Pureblood wizards kept a mistress when they were in an arranged union. Had her father had a mistress? Had Rodolphus? Bellatrix looked away and asked,

"Who is she?"

"We don't have to discuss that," Rodolphus said simply, and Bellatrix shut her eyes. It hurt, somehow, knowing this. Then she looked up at Rodolphus and demanded sharply,

"Restore my memory. I'm sure I knew. Who is she?"

"Stella Nott," Rodolphus shrugged. "A girl from school. You knew then; Stella's father couldn't afford an arrangement for her, and you and I were already betrothed. You didn't really care. It was easier for you. You got to keep your distance. We kissed every now and then; we were physical once in a blue moon, but… we weren't… erm…"

"I understand. Thank you for your honesty," Bellatrix said, nodding. Rodolphus sighed, looking embarrassed, and he told her,

"You know, I've cared deeply about you for years. You and I really have always been more like really good friends. If you'd like, we can keep on like that. We can be husband and wife and… really good friends."

"That sounds nice," Bellatrix nodded, and she told him, "I was going to go downstairs and eat dinner. I assume you'll be going back to Castle Lestrange? I saw it in a memory. Well. I saw the ballroom. Perhaps soon he'll let you take me there soon to see where I really live."

"Of course. You have your own suite there. We live with Rabastan, my brother. You're good friends with him, too; the two of you love to battle one another at Gobstones on rainy days."

"Was I ever  _with_  Rabastan?" Bellatrix asked, and Rodolphus snorted.

"Not likely. He likes wizards."

"Oh." Bellatrix laughed a little, reaching up to plant her hands on Rodolphus' chest. She patted him there and said apologetically, "I do feel badly about punching you. You were just trying to be kind, it seems."

"Well, I've always tried to be kind to you, Bella," Rodolphus said, and she was surprised to hear him use the shortened name again. She nodded, and he squeezed at his hands, and she mumbled,

"Thank you for coming. Thank you for filling in some of the gaps."

"Be well, Bella," Rodolphus told her. He dragged his thumbs over hers and then nodded, turning to go.

* * *

Bellatrix was finishing up the breaded chicken, potato, and asparagus that the House-Elf had brought her in the dining room, sipping on white wine from a silver goblet, when the room's heavy door opened. Bellatrix flew to her feet when she saw that it was Lord Voldemort walking in, but he gestured for her to sit. She was very surprised to see him carrying a large, heavy-looking wooden box with runes carved around it. He sank down into a chair on the opposite side of the table from her, and when he set the box down, she knew what was inside.

"I wanted Rodolphus to explain for himself the fact that he's got a mistress," Voldemort said in a clip. "Of course, nearly all Pureblood wizards do, especially young, hot-blooded ones in arranged marriages where they had no say in things. But I wasn't sure how you'd take that news from me, and I really didn't feel like being on the receiving end of a punch."

Bellatrix huffed and took another few bites of chicken. She finished off her asparagus and then her mashed potato, and she informed Voldemort,

"He seems like a good man. We are to be very good friends, he says. He told me about Rabastan's preferences. He sounds like a good friend, too. It seems I had more friends than I'd imagined."

"Hmm." Voldemort just nodded and drummed his fingers on the carved wooden box. He shrugged and said, "I am willing to answer any questions you may have."

"Have  _you_  got a mistress?" Bellatrix asked at once, and Voldemort threw up an eyebrow. He let the question hang heavily for a long moment, and then he finally shook his head.

"No. Witches are a horrendous distraction from the important things I have to do. I don't trouble with them. Not in that way."

That was a relief to hear, somehow. Bellatrix found herself rather disliking the mental image of Lord Voldemort  _with_  some random female. She wasn't sure why.

"When did you put this tattoo on me?" Bellatrix asked.

"The Dark Mark," Voldemort corrected her. "You became a Death Eater younger than anyone else. Right when you turned seventeen. I'll show you that memory, if you'd like."

"All right." Bellatrix nodded and stood, walking quickly around the dining table. She knew what was in that box. Sure enough, Voldemort cracked open the box, revealing the basin of the Pensieve inside, and he used his wand to draw out a silvery thread from his temple. He placed it into the basin, and he encouraged Bellatrix toward the Pensieve. He bent down, and so did Bellatrix, and the two of them were yanked and pulled through space until they landed in a washed-out scene here in Malfoy Manor.

It was in Voldemort's office. He looked slightly less tired, though only a little, but Bellatrix looked like little more than a child. She was wearing a hooded velvet robe, kneeling before Voldemort, her left arm extended. She stared up at him, her eyes wide and full of wonder. She was adoring him, marveling at him with tears brimming in her gaze, and he smiled down at her with genuine happiness.

"Bellatrix Black," he said crisply, "Do you promise to serve me for the rest of your days as a Death Eater? Do you promise to die for me if need be, to kill for me if need be, to do everything and more I ask of you?"

"Of course I do, Master," Bellatrix whispered, and he took hold of her left hand. His face looked more content than ever, and he dragged his fingers over the pale skin of her forearm as he murmured,

"Then I make you mine.  _Morsmordre._ "

Bellatrix gasped as he drew a complex design on her arm with the tip of his wand, and she panted as if she were in ecstasy as the Dark Mark appeared on her skin, first pink, then burgundy, then inky black. She hissed in agony for a moment, but then she moaned softly, and the mark faded. Voldemort bent down, bringing her arm up to him, and he kissed the place where he'd marked her. She stood slowly, staring up at him in amazement, her chest heaving beneath her robe, and she bowed her head as he lowered her arm.

The memory dissipated, and as Bellatrix stood up, pulling away from the Pensieve, she began to laugh. Voldemort did not seem amused, and he slammed the wooden box shut and snapped,

"What's so funny?"

"I was…  _worshipping_  you," she noted. "Like some thirteen-year-old girl meeting her favourite singer."

"Favourite singer," Voldemort repeated blandly. He shook his head and scoffed, drumming his fingers on the large wooden box, and he said, "Plainly, some of what I had from you will need to be earned back."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Bellatrix said sarcastically. She got down onto her knees and clasped her hands together, and she giggled a little as she begged him, "Please, Master, won't you  _please_  humour me by looking in my direction?"

His cheeks went a little red, and he whispered, "Stop that."

She could tell she was walking on thin ice. She slowly stood, but she couldn't stop teasing him. The scene he'd shown her had been so over-the-top. She stroked at the wooden box and marveled,

"Getting that Dark Mark was almost like getting a kiss blown out to the audience by Orsino and the Bears."

It was the only wizarding band she could remember, the only music group whose name she could think of, but she knew intellectually that they were twenty years out of date. It didn't matter; she'd made her point. Voldemort glared up at her and stood quickly.

"Don't you dare mock me," he said through clenched teeth. "I am your master, and I showed you the day you made an oath to serve me. Wiped memory or not, the oath stands. You are my servant. Serve me or die. If you can't get through this recovery process properly, you will be eliminated."

Bellatrix felt fear then, real fear, for the first time since all of this madness had begun. She had no real memory of fear, she realised. She knew what it was, but she couldn't remember ever feeling it, not viscerally like this. He was backing her up against the wood-paneled wall in the dining room, and as she stared up at him, defiantly tipping up her chin, she told him,

"I want to go home. I live at Castle Lestrange with my husband Rodolphus."

"And who told you that information?" Voldemort demanded. He narrowed his eyes and asked her, "What's your House-Elf there called?"

Bellatrix's heart raced. She did not have an answer for that. She just shook her head a little, but Voldemort pressed on.

"What colour tile's in the bathroom in your suite there?"

Bellatrix's eyes began to water, and her veneer of bravery began to crack. She started to feel panic go through her, and then Voldemort went in for the kill. He leaned down and put his lips beside Bellatrix's ear, and he asked her,

"What does Stella Nott look like?"

"Stop." Bellatrix pushed at his chest a little, and he whispered,

"Go ahead and punch me. See what happens to you."

She cinched her fingers onto the chest of his robes, shutting her eyes and feeling very afraid. But when she opened her eyes, Voldemort surprised her by cupping her jaw in his hand and standing up a little. He towered over her and murmured down to her,

"I want my warrior back. I am keeping you here until you are safe. I expect you to behave in a manner befitting a Death Eater.  _My_  Death Eater. Do you understand?"

Bellatrix didn't answer. He lowered his face again, putting his lips beside her ear once more, and his breath was warm there as he whispered,

"Do you understand, Bellatrix?"

"Yes, Master," she mumbled back. She felt him kiss her then. He kissed her just below her ear, making her shiver, and he kissed her cheek, and he informed her in a quiet voice,

"You stared at me like a star-struck little girl because that's what you were. Right up until a few days ago. I miss that star-struck little girl, hmm?"

He kissed her forehead then, leaving his lips there for so long that Bellatrix found herself warm and breathless. She breathed in the scent of wood and leather on him, holding fast to the front of his robes until he finally pulled away and took his large wooden box off the table, wordlessly moving like a wraith as he left her panting against the wall of the dining room.

**Author's Note: Awww, yeah. Finally starting to see some actually Bellamort stuff happening. Woo hoo. :} Thank you sooooo much to everyone who has decided to jump on board for this story, and a special thanks to those who have reviewed.**


	5. Bells

Bellatrix sat in the lounge of Malfoy Manor, flipping slowly through the Hogwarts yearbook that she'd been sent by Rodolphus. It would give her some idea of what their final year at school had been like, he'd said. Bellatrix was trying to memorise names and faces. She was trying to memorise ideas like the fact that the Slytherins had lived in the dungeons, where the Potions classroom had been.

Rodolphus had played Beater for the Slytherin Quidditch team, she could see from the team photograph. She watched him playfully swing his bat as a Bludger moved through the photograph, and the other players laughed a little. There was a blonde girl, a Chaser, who gave Rodolphus a particularly keen smile in that picture. Bellatrix turned the page to see a photograph of some Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students working together in third-year Herbology. She didn't really much care about that. But then on the opposite side of the page, there was an image that made her freeze. She read the caption beneath four times over.

_Seventh-year Slytherin students Bellatrix Black and Stella Nott share a laugh in the library._

Bellatrix watched the moving photograph as she, wearing Slytherin robes, giggled along with the pretty blonde Chaser girl from the Quidditch photograph. Stella Nott. Rodolphus' mistress. The girl he really loved. It seemed Bellatrix was quite friendly with Stella. In the photograph, the girls seemed to be laughing about something on the page of a book between them, and the laughter seemed genuine.

Rodolphus had said that Bellatrix had known about him and Stella even in school. Obviously, then, Bellatrix had known that she was betrothed, but she and Rodolphus had always been far more like friends and less like lovers. She'd always been all right with what he had with Stella. Was that because she was so preoccupied with Lord Voldemort? She'd seen her own face in memories. Her attentions had been wholly focused on one man, and that man was not Rodolphus Lestrange.

"Bella?"

She stood and turned around at the sound of Rodolphus' voice. There was another wizard with him, a shorter a far more plump man with a round, kind-looking face whose features closely mirrored his brother's.

"Rabastan?" Bellatrix guessed, and the shorter wizard nodded and smiled.

"Hi, there, Bells."

_Bells._  He had a nickname for her. Her eyes burned a little at that, and she felt compelled to embrace him. But she just walked toward the brothers, and Rodolphus said,

"We were here for a meeting with the Dark Lord, to discuss what happened up in Scotland. Mulciber was here, but he left. I thought I'd take a moment to… well, to re-introduce you two."

Bellatrix smiled a little at Rabastan and said, "I'm told we like to play Gobstones. I confess that I can't really remember the rules."

"Well, I'll just have to beat you at the game for a while until you're back in your stride," Rabastan winked. "You'll be fine, Bells. You won't remember everything the way it was, but you'll make new memories, eh? And they'll be even better than the old ones. Who needs the first nineteen years, anyway?"

Bellatrix laughed a little and tipped her head, narrowing her eyes. "I like you, Rabastan Lestrange."

Rabastan smirked and looked up at his younger brother. "She's a bit rougher, isn't she? Is it true you punched him?"

Bellatrix shrugged. "He walked into my room and kissed me without asking."

"Well. You gave him what-for, then, didn't you? Glad someone had the gumption to give him a good punch. Well done, Bells." Rabastan laughed, and Bellatrix felt very cheery all of a sudden. Then, in the doorway behind the brothers, Lord Voldemort appeared, and Bellatrix's laughter dissolved a bit. She nodded to show some respect, and Rodolphus and Rabastan turned round when they saw her go serious. They bowed deeply, and Voldemort said,

"Bellatrix, I should like to work with you upstairs with the Pensieve when you're ready. I'll be in your suite. Good evening, gentlemen."

"Master." Rabastan bowed again as Voldemort left, his robes snapping as he whirled and stomped away, and Bellatrix rolled her eyes and whispered,

"Does he  _ever_ smile?"

Rabastan gave Rodolphus a meaningful look, and then he admitted,

"I've only ever seen him laugh around you, Bells. Not sure anyone else makes him smile."

"Oh." She gulped. She glanced toward the yearbook on the low table, and she said to Rodolphus, "I saw a photograph of Stella and me. We were laughing together. Are we friends?"

"Yes," Rodolphus nodded. "Yes. Sometimes she comes for dinner. The four of have dinner - you and Rabastan and Stella and I. You never minded her being… you know, mine. You were mine, too. That sounds selfish, but it never felt selfish."

Rabastan shifted on his feet a bit awkwardly. He liked boys, Rodolphus had said. Did Rabastan have anyone of his own? Behaviour like that was deeply frowned upon in a Pureblood community that so relished procreation. Bellatrix sighed and said to Rodolphus,

"I think you and Rabastan and I will be great friends. And if Stella makes you happy, then that makes me happy. And if she and I get along, all the better."

"We should go," Rabastan said carefully. "The Dark Lord wants you. Come home soon, all right, Bells? Castle Lestrange isn't the same without you."

* * *

Voldemort paced in the sitting room of Bellatrix's suite, wondering if he should show her the memory he'd drawn out of his mind. He hadn't intended on showing her this level of detail. He'd intended on leaving it be, on letting her watch her wedding from a distance, from a third-person perspective. But he'd finally drummed up the courage to show her the other side of what she did remember.

One of the only memories she had left was dancing with him at her wedding to Rodolphus. And she'd been right. The way they'd been looking at one another had been rather obvious, once Voldemort had viewed it through the Pensieve. Now he would show her the dance from his perspective, the way he specifically remembered it happening, because that had been the night that she'd gone from being a gangly, if ruthless, schoolgirl to a grown witch in his eyes.

"Hello."

He looked up to see Bellatrix standing in the doorway, dressing black crushed velvet and looking pretty enough that he had to glance away. He cleared his throat and gestured to the Pensieve that he'd put on the low table.

"I have a memory… something to show you," he said sharply. He sat and gestured for her to do the same. She seemed confused by his brusque tone and his rapid blinking, but he just ordered her, "Let's go."

She obeyed, following him headfirst into the Pensieve. They drifted down into the inky, icy, watery gas, and then suddenly they were standing before a dancing couple. Bellatrix glanced up at Voldemort, seeming to understand suddenly why he'd brought her here. He was filling in the gaps.

"My dress was marvelous," she said softly, circling around herself as she and Voldemort's shadows arranged themselves into a tight stance. She seemed to be memorising every swoop of satin, ever bit of silk and lace, every bead. It was a stunning gown, Voldemort had to admit. She eyed the way her curls had been tamed into a bun from which a lacy veil flowed, the way her face was carefully painted.

"You looked pretty," Voldemort told her quietly, folding his hands before him. "Listen to what I tell you."

She stood on the opposite side from him of the dancing couple, and the shadows of Voldemort and Bellatrix began to sway. Bellatrix was staring up at him as though he were everything, as though he were miraculous, and he was smiling back down a bit at her.

"Not used to seeing you in white. It's blinding," he joked, and she laughed a little. She shook her head and promised,

"It's only this once, Master. Next week I'll be training again for you. I told Rodolphus there's to be no honeymoon. There's no time. Not with a war on."

"Well. I admire your dedication," Voldemort told her gently. They danced in silence for a few moments, and he informed her tightly, "He'll take a mistress."

"He's already got one," Bellatrix shrugged. "Stella. I don't mind."

"And you?" Voldemort asked. "Won't you need something else, if he's not focused on you?"

"Married Pureblood witches aren't exactly allowed to go running about with paramours, are they?" Bellatrix asked in a low, almost seductive voice. Her eyes seemed heavy then, and their dancing slowed a little, until Voldemort smirked down at her and reminded her,

"You've got a war to fight, little one, haven't you? That'll be your something else."

Bellatrix gnawed her lip and nodded quickly. "Y-Yes, Master. Of course. Thank you so much for coming to the wedding. It means everything to have you here. Everything."

"Congratulations, Bella," he said, and he watched his own thumb stroke over her hand. The dance ended, and she curtsied, and he bowed, and as she scurried away, he stood there watching her go, and then he shook his head a little and let himself get swept into conversation with a few of his Death Eaters.

Voldemort gently pulled out of the Pensieve, and he felt Bellatrix coming with him, until they were both extracted from the silvery fluid cloud and were staring at one another across the little table. Bellatrix cleared her throat softly and noted,

"Whatever I felt toward you before I lost my memory, it was more than just the obsession of a servant."

"Perhaps," Voldemort nodded. "I may not have noticed. It is odd, and different, seeing memories in a reflective sense like this."

"Hmm." Bellatrix shook her head and shrugged. "Whatever I felt was not reciprocated."

"Even if it was, it would seem as though I was not being exceptionally perceptive," Voldemort pointed out. "I see now what you mean, about the eyes. You're right. I looked at you… well, in a way I do not suppose I looked anyone else."

Bellatrix scoffed. "And?"

"And what?" Voldemort clipped. Bellatrix raised her eyes.

"This doesn't really help me rebuild my memory," she snapped at him. "Rodolphus gave me a Hogwarts yearbook earlier. That helped. I met Rabastan. That helped. All this does is confuse me. Now I just feel very confused. Who were you to me?"

"Your master," he said in the blandest tone he could manage, but Bellatrix sighed and shook her head,

"It seems as though you were  _everything_ ," she whispered. "Far more than Orsino and the Bears. And more than a master. So what was I to you? Just another servant? I worshipped you whilst you walked on me? Is that it?"

"I do not think I realised the level of admiration and attraction I felt toward you." Voldemort adjusted the way he was sitting, for a deep discomfort had come over him. He straightened his back and informed her, "I have long cherished your intelligence and bravery, your wit and charm, and I have long found you to be beautiful. But I have also, as I've told you, long regarded witches as a terrible distraction from my aims, and so I have always put out of mind any combination of attractions that might lead to… to…"

"I understand." Bellatrix stood slowly and went over to stare out the window. She liked to do that, Voldemort thought. She liked to stare out windows. He huffed and stood, moving over toward her, and he informed her,

"I showed you the dance because it is one of the one things you still remembered. I should like to believe there is a reason why that memory clung on so desperately."

"Have we ever kissed?" Bellatrx asked softly, and Voldemort tried not to scoff at her. He shook his head and murmured,

"No. We have not."

She raised her eyes to him and informed him rather angrily, "That bitch Pinky Tarlington - stupid name, by the way - took my memories of just about everything. Most of it, I find I do not mind so badly. I don't remember my childhood. Oh, well. Who really  _wants_  to remember their childhood? I don't remember going to school. That probably wasn't so great, either. But I bet someone's kissed me properly, deeply, on the mouth. I know what it is. I know a kiss  _is_. But I have no memory of one."

"I'll let Rodolphus show you," Voldemort said, feeling his stomach twist and his heart speed up. Why did he want to do what she was suggesting so badly? She crossed her arms and reminded him,

"He's in love with Stella Nott. If there's anyone he wants to kiss on the mouth, it's her. I just watched you dance with me. You're my master. Yes. But I saw your eyes. And I saw my eyes. And something tells me that you'd be willing to set aside the damnable distraction that I am as a witch for just one moment to give me a memory of being kissed."

"Bellatrix…" He looked away, and she whispered,

"Please."

He sighed, shaking his head, but then he finally realised she deserved it, and he decided to act quickly. He took her face in both of his hands, and he stared down at her for a half a second. Her deep brown eyes were wide - with anticipation, with fear? Her full lips parted a little, and Voldemort leaned down and brushed his mouth against hers. He quickly deepened the kiss, licking at her bottom lip and urging her mouth open.

She squealed a little, her tiny hands flying to the front of his robes and holding fast. He slid his tongue between her teeth and dragged it over the roof of her mouth, feeling her shiver, and he instinctively wrapped one arm around her to pull her close. She tasted good. She felt good. He wanted more. He wanted to keep kissing her, so he knew he had to stop. He broke the kiss off, feeling heat in his ears as he gently planted one final kiss on her lips and stood up. He tried not to pant as he dragged the pad of his thumb over his bottom lip.

He wordlessly went over to the low table where the Pensieve was and packed it up into the heavy wooden carrying box. He said in a tight voice to Bellatrix,

"To avoid damaging this, I'm going to store it here. I'll keep the key. We'll use a memory next time that's more helpful to restoring your work as a Death Eater."

He locked up the wooden box and left it on the low table, tucking the key away in his robes. He started to leave, but when he glanced over his shoulder, Bellatrix was staring at him from the window, open-mouthed and visibly breathless, and she mumbled,

"Thank you, My Lord."

He just nodded crisply, once, and left the room.

**Author's Note: What** _ **other**_   **things can he… help her make new memories of doing…? Mwah hahahaha. Raise your hand if this is the first time you actually like the Lestrange brothers? Haha! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing.**


	6. Something Passed Between Them

Perhaps he really never had noticed the little things about Bellatrix, but he was noticing now.

Voldemort noticed her steely determination the next day when she explored the memory he gave her of a Death Eater meeting, when she wandered slowly through the dining room and asked for the identities of the other servants. He noticed the icy look in her eyes as she studied and memorised, and he noticed how pretty that was.

"Mulciber," she recited, pointing to the wizards gathered at the table. "Avery. Macnair. Yaxley. Rookwood. Those two work in the Ministry of Magic."

"This is Nott," Voldemort had said patiently, and Bellatrix's voice had been cold and detached as she'd asked,

"Stella's father?"

"Uncle," Voldemort had replied coolly. Bellatrix had pulled out of the Pensieve with him then and had paced around her sitting room, reciting the names again, their positions of employment, who else was related to them. Bellatrix was determined, Voldemort noticed. He'd noticed that about her before she'd lost her memory, but this seemed different. She was starting over, starting from empty, and she was determined to be complete again.

It was beautiful.

The windows were thrown open to let in the evening light and warmth, for it was unseasonably pleasant for late April. The purple twilight bathed Bellatrix's face in a glow as she stared out on the gardens below. Voldemort sat on the sofa, and as she stared at the gardens, he stared at her.

Perhaps he hadn't noticed any of it before, but he was noticing it now.

He was noticing the way that her intelligence manifested with a bite, the way her independent streak burned like fire inside of her. He was noticing the way her coiled black hair shone in the sunlight, the way her milky skin was flawless, the way her lips were full and dark, the way her eyes were wide and shining. He was noticing the little curve of her young form, the slight swell of her small chest, the narrow waist that led to hips new to womanhood. He was noticing all of it, all of her. He couldn't help it.

Kissing her the day before had made him realise that perhaps he'd been depriving himself for years by swearing off witches entirely. He had a body like any other man, and it craved things. He craved things. The kiss, even if it had just been to build a memory within her, had made him realise that it felt good to touch a witch, to kiss a witch. Moreover, it felt very good to touch and kiss  _her_. And he was noticing her now, noticing her properly.

"Anything else?"

"What?" He snapped out of his reverie to see Bellatrix shrug from where she stood.

"Is there anything else you'd like to show me tonight, My Lord?"

"Oh. Erm… you can go eat dinner, if you'd like."

Bellatrix gave him a strange look and shrugged. "It's half past eight, sir. I ate before we went into the Pensieve, remember?"

"Oh. Yes." He was distracted by her. Witches were a distraction, he reminded himself. He'd eaten, too, separately, in his office. He gulped and glanced into her heavily curtained bedroom, knowing she slept in there, knowing she curled up beneath those blankets, and he found himself trying to think of another memory to show her.

"There was a time," he said carefully, "when Rabastan Splinched after a skirmish. You and he and Rodolphus and I came back here with a few others. Your quick thinking was impressive. I'd like to show you."

Bellatrix smiled a little and nodded. "I don't mind seeing myself be impressive. Sounds good to me."

He smirked a bit and shut his eyes, thinking of the night that they'd all been eating at the White Wyvern when a few Aurors had shown up with arrest warrants. Spells had flown until Voldemort had ordered a quick retreat, and Rabastan Lestrange hadn't concentrated hard enough. He drew the memory out of his mind and put it into the Pensieve, and when Bellatrix came over and sat on the sofa beside Voldemort, he stiffened up. She rarely sat beside him, and now that she did, she smelled of roses and seemed very soft beside him, despite her hard shell.

"Let's go," he said sharply, and he nearly hucked himself down into the Pensieve. Bellatrix came with him, and the two of them landed in a memory of the foyer of Malfoy Manor.

"He's bleeding! He's Splinched!" Rodolphus Lestrange was exclaiming, and Abraxas Malfoy called out,

"Dobby!"

"Oh, for goodness' sake.  _Accio_  Essence of Dittany!" Bellatrix exclaimed, rushing over to kneel beside Rabastan. Voldemort was walking down the steps into the foyer, for he'd been seeing to it that Mulciber and Yaxley had headed out straight away after arriving. He stood on the stairs and watched in silence as Rabastan moaned in pain, blood leaking from his stomach onto the marble floor.

" _Tergeo. Scourgify. Allevio Trio_. This will sting, but not much. Ready?" Bellatrix used her teeth to yank out the stopper from the Dittany, which she dropped onto the wound on Rabastan's belly. He hissed and sighed where he lay, and she held his hand and cooed something almost gentle to him as his wound knitted up. She aimed her wand at the puddle of blood on the ground and murmured, " _Tergeo. Scourgify._   _Textus Reparo._ "

That last spell stitched up Rodolphus' robes, and then he was helped to his feet by his brother.

"Thanks, Bells," Rabastan mumbled, and she clapped him on the shoulder. Bellatrix raised her eyes then, seeing her master watching her from the steps. Malfoy and the Lestranges began talking in hushed voices about what had happened in the White Wyvern. Bellatrix walked quickly toward Voldemort and bowed her head, and she asked him,

"What do you need of me now, Master?"

"You have served me well today," he insisted. "Go home and get some rest."

She just stared at him for a little moment, and in her eyes he could read the fierce adoration she bore him. He reached for her face, knowing that she very much liked when he touched her, and her eyes fluttered shut a little. His fingers tingled a bit where he touched her, but he reckoned he was just a bit dizzy from what had happened in London. He nodded at her and said quietly,

"Go home, Bella."

"Yes, Master." She nodded and pulled away, trotting down the steps and over toward her husband.

Voldemort pulled up and out of the memory, and this time Bellatrix was slow to follow him. When at last she pulled her curls and face up out of the silvery, swirling mist, her face was stoic, and she stared right at him where they sat on the sofa.

"Were you really so blind?" she asked, "or did you know?"

"Did I know what?" he demanded, and she tipped her head.

"That I was in love with you."

He scoffed and shook his head. "No. You were… in awe of me. Obsessed with me. There's a difference."

"I know my own face. I may not have many memories of my own anymore, but I can read my own expressions. I know what I saw."

"You… it doesn't matter, because you don't really remember it, anyway," Voldemort said in a stilted voice. He cleared his throat and shrugged. Bellatrix noted,

"I've been out of school for less than a year. We were wearing warm clothes in that memory. When was that?"

He hesitated, and then he finally said, "It was the end of February."

She narrowed her eyes. "Two months ago."

He nodded, and she chuckled a little as she looked away, staring at the material in the Pensieve. She shook her head and asked quietly,

"Men… you all really are a bit blind, aren't you? Rodolphus says he didn't know. How could he not have noticed? How could  _you_  not have noticed? I don't remember it, but it's plain as day. I don't believe you. I said I did, but I don't. You claim that nothing happened between us. That's impossible."

"Nothing happened between us," Voldemort said in a clip, but Bellatrix pinched her lips and turned back to him, insisting,

"A witch can not possibly look at a wizard - who's holding her cheek, by the way - with  _that_ expression in her eye if nothing has passed between them."

Voldemort huffed and shook his head. "You were infatuated. Nothing more."

"Then why did you touch me like that?" Bellatrix asked, crossing her arms over her chest and tipping her head up, and Voldemort insisted defensively,

"To humour you, perhaps. I quite liked having my most capable Death Eater worship my footprints, so every now and then, I touched your face. How's that for an answer?"

She seemed a little disappointed, and she asked rather meekly,

"So I never… there was never any memory of me… I was only with Rodolphus?"

Suddenly Voldemort understood. She knew what sex was. She also knew that her husband had a mistress whom he adored. He stared at his hands in his lap and shook his head, feeling almost badly for her all of a sudden as he said,

"I have no idea if you were ever with anyone besides Rodolphus, and I have no way of finding out. You were never with me."

"I see." Bellatrix pursed her lips when she looked up, and she glanced toward the open window as she noted in a distant sort of voice, "It must be a pleasant thing. I have no memory of it, but my mind tells me that people enjoy it."

Voldemort rolled his eyes and choked out a little laugh. "Yes. People enjoy it, most of the time."

He watched Bellatrix's cheeks go red, and her breath seemed to speed up a little, and he knew she was trying desperately to imagine what it was, what would make her husband seek out a mistress. Voldemort felt his own face go warm, and he informed her,

"He still has to do those things with you, if you want him to. Rodolphus."

"I… do not feel desire toward him," Bellatrix said matter-of-factly, and she didn't need to complete that thought. Voldemort knew perfectly well what she meant. She felt desire toward  _him_. She'd felt it before she'd lost her memories, and she felt it now. He licked his bottom lip and then chewed hard.

Witches were a terrible distraction, he reminded himself, and he felt very distracted by Bellatrix. He glanced into her bedroom, into the room with the bed draped in heavy burgundy curtains, and his throat went dry. He wrenched his eyes shut and remembered that he'd ordered Bellatrix to take a five-year contraceptive potion when she'd married Rodolphus.

He could just take her into that bedroom, hoist up her skirts, and show her what exactly sex was. She might not remember, but he could help her craft a new memory. He stared at the bed, imagining himself with her on her back, hovering over her, driving himself into her, and then he turned his face to see her staring determinedly out the window, and he whispered,

"I should go."

"Yes, Master," she said, a little bitterly. Voldemort's stomach ached a little at that, and he nearly growled in frustration. He wanted her, all of a sudden, and he found himself with a bit of blurry vision and with heat in his ears as he told her,

"I… should like to… to give you a kiss before I leave."

She seemed surprised by that, but he didn't give her too much time to think. She turned her face, and as soon as she did, he caught her cheek in his hand. Her mouth fell open, and she leaned toward him a little. She wanted it. She wanted to be kissed. Her cheek was hot as fire beneath his palm, and Voldemort gulped hard as he bent down to kiss her.

He was slow at first, nudging her lips apart with his, but soon enough his tongue was tangled with hers. She didn't know what she was doing, so he showed her how it was done. He suckled on her lip, and then she did the same to him. He licked at the roof of her mouth, and she mimicked the action. He groaned a bit, feeling himself flush hard, and as he stroked at her face, he knew that if he didn't leave  _right now_ , he was going to be buried to the hilt inside of her within half a minute.

He wrenched his mouth from hers, panting like a schoolboy, and he dragged his thumb over his lip as she stared at him in awe and said simply,

"I want more."

"Yes. I suppose you probably do," he replied, and Bellatrix gave him a hungry look as she edged toward him on the sofa. He shook his head and whispered,

"No. I have to… I should go."

"Why?" she demanded. "Have you some objection to sex with me?"

"Bellatrix!" He squeezed his eyes shut and told her, "You're married."

"And? He's got a mistress!" Bellatrix said shrilly. Voldemort tried,

"I am your master."

"Then be my master in that bedroom," Bellatrix suggested, "and show me what to do."

He actually moaned a little at that, for that suggestion made him so hard that it hurt. But he knew that if he took her body, he would cross a line from which there was no retreat. He heaved himself to his feet and mumbled,

"Goodnight, Bellatrix."

He hurried over toward the door, and he said over his shoulder,

"Put the Pensieve away. Don't worry about locking it; just put it in the box. Goodnight."

* * *

**Author's Note: Gahhhhh. So close. Next up, Bellatrix is going to finally see her parents again since losing her memory. We don't hate the Lestranges in this story; what will Cygnus and Druella be like? Hmm…**

**I am flying to Arizona tomorrow but will update whenever I can over these next few days. I appreciate your patience, and in the meantime, PLEASE do leave a review if you get a chance. Thank you!**


	7. A Sample

"Oh, Bellatrix. How good it is to see you… Rodolphus said that you'd been injured! I certainly hope you're back to normal now." Druella Rosier Black swept into the lounge at Malfoy Manor, where she'd been invited for an afternoon tea. Abraxas' wife, Bettina, had arranged the tea on the grounds of seeing her old friend Druella along with Bellatrix, who was healing at the manor, but of course neither Bettina nor Druella knew the truth of Bellatrix's condition.

"Hello, Mum," Bellatrix said with a small smile, and when she embraced the witch, the feeling was foreign and distant. Her mother was a bit taller than her, and very bony. She did not feel very warm. She was handsomely dressed, in flowing violet silk robes with crystal ornamentation. Her black hair had been styled carefully into waves. She was pretty, and looked quite a lot like Bellatrix in many ways, but Bellatrix did not know her. Not at all.

"You seem tired, dear," Druella mused, petting at Bellatrix's curls. "Are you getting enough sleep? Just a drop or two of Dreamless Sleep in your chamomile tea at night will help; you know that."

"Yes, Mum," Bellatrix said numbly. She forced a little smile, and Bettina Malfoy, who was blonde and seemed airheaded, said,

"Let's sit and have tea, shall we? How are Narcissa and Andromeda, Druella?"

"Well, they're still at school, and they barely write," Druella complained. She gave Bellatrix a meaningful look and said solemnly, "None of my daughters write, but, then, I suppose that's a mother's curse."

"I've been healing up from a bad injury," Bellatrix reminded her crisply, and Druella nodded as she said sharply to Dobby,

"Rose tea for me."

Dobby began making cups of tea for the witches, and Druella took hers as she said,

"Yes, dear. Of course. You're quite right. Cissy used to write, but, Bettina, I think she's so in love with your son that she can't be bothered with her mummy anymore!"

The two witches chuckled, and Bellatrix asked carefully,

"Lucius and Narcissa… are they… betrothed?"  
Druella looked at Bellatrix like she had three heads. "They had an infant betrothal, Bellatrix; you've known about it for nearly fifteen years. What, dd you hit your head or something?"

She began to laugh, but then Bellatrix mumbled, "Something like that."

She accepted her cup of tea from Dobby, the same type she'd been drinking for days now, and her mother scowled.

"Darjeeling? You always liked green tea with honey."

"I'm allowed to like more than one sort of tea," Bellatrix snapped, and when Druella looked a little scandalised, Bettina Malfoy said in an airy sort of voice,

"Green tea is too bitter for me. I like my tea with milk. Nice and sweet, too."

"Quite, so, Bettina," Druella said, giving Bellatrix a nasty look.

"Lucius is playing Keeper this year for Slytherin, you know," Bettina informed Bellatrix, and Bellatrix nodded as though she cared. She blinked and wondered aloud,

"Did he not play Keeper last year?"

"You  _know_  he was shut out of the squad by that Half-Blood boy last term," Druella hissed. "Honestly, Bellatrix, what is the matter with you?"

Bellatrix felt like this meeting was not going well. She cleared her throat and asked,

"Is Father meeting with the Dark Lord in his office?"

" _Father?_  He'd be hurt to hear you'd stopped calling him  _Daddy_." Druella narrowed her eyes, gave Bettina a worried look, and said, "I think she really did hit her head."

"I just haven't been thinking clearly since the… accident. Sorry." Bellatrix huffed a breath and said, "I'm going to go say a quick hello to Daddy, and then I think I ought to go lie down and rest. Being up for too long gives me terrible headaches."

"Should I be worried, Bellatrix?" Druella stood with Bellatrix, who shrugged and insisted,

"I'm under the Dark Lord's care. You have nothing to worry about. And the Malfoys are being very hospitable."

"Stay for tea, Druella," Bettina insisted, and Druella nodded as she kissed Bellatrix's cheek.

"Be well, dear," she said worriedly. Bellatrix nodded and made her way down the corridor to Voldemort's office, where she found her father, Cygnus Black standing and chatting amicably with Lord Voldemort. Her father worked in finances for Voldemort, she knew, but he was not a Death Eater. When she appeared in the doorway, Voldemort smiled a little at her and said,

"Speak of the devil, and she shall appear."

"I'm a devil now, am I?" Bellatrix teased. Cygnus shifted on his feet, and Bellatrix smiled a bit at him. "Hullo, Daddy. Just wanted to stop in, but I've developed an awful headache. I think I should lie down."

Voldemort gave her a knowing look, and he said, almost with warning in his voice,

"If you're getting those headaches again, you know what to do. Dark room. Silence."

"Yes, sir." Bellatrix nodded respectfully. "Daddy, do tell Mum I'm sorry I couldn't linger longer for tea, will you? And that I'm sorry I was… erm… confused."

"Confused? Is everything all right, darling?" Cygnus approached Bellatrix, but she recoiled a little when he reached for her. He was, to her, a strange middle-aged man, not a father who had loved her her whole life. He certainly noticed the way she pulled back, and he lowered his arm, looking concerned. He just quirked up half his mouth and told her, "Feel better, sweet girl. I know you're in capable hands whilst you heal."

"I am." She nodded vigorously and promised Cygnus, "The Dark Lord is seeing to it that I heal properly."

"Why don't you go lie down in the dark and quiet?" Voldemort's voice was almost stern, and she knew why. She was off. She wasn't herself around her parents, and they were noticing. She just nodded, bowing her head, and she gave her father a bit of an awkward embrace. He frowned but told her,

"Feel better soon, Bella, dear."

"Thanks, Daddy. Goodbye, My Lord." Bellatrix left the office, shuddering with discomfort as she walked as quickly as she could down the corridor and up the stairs to the burgundy suite.

* * *

"Bellatrix."

She blinked her eyes open to see Voldemort standing in her bedroom, and she yelped in surprise. She'd dozed off, she thought. She sat up and gasped, and he cocked up an eyebrow.

"You know, you didn't  _actually_ have to lie down in the dark and quiet."

"Well, it did really give me a headache, talking to them," Bellatrix complained. "I didn't know them. It felt like I was play-acting, like I was pretending to be someone else. Can they really never know what's happened to me?"

"No. Absolutely not." Voldemort shook his head firmly. "Mulciber, Malfoy, and the Lestranges have been sworn to secrecy. The Auror who did it to you has been killed. Knowing that you've been Obliviated would be a key point of knowledge and would serve as a key weakness for us. I'm afraid play-acting is the way of the future for you. If that means distancing your relationships in certain ways, fine. We can tell them that your mind was slightly damaged by a spell, but…"

He shrugged a little, and she told him,

"My mother's a bit mousy, isn't she? She talks like a mouse."

Voldemort snorted a laugh and sat on the edge of Bellatrix's bed. She moved to sit beside him, and he told her,

"She was always a bit haughty, even in school."

"You knew her in school?" Bellatrix marveled, and he raised his eyebrows.

"Tom Riddle's gang included many Slytherins, included Cygnus Black III, who was betrothed to Druella Rosier. Yes. I knew them in school. They're three years younger."

"Oh." Bellatrix blinked a few times and studied him, his harsh and angular face, and he looked a little self-conscious all of a sudden. She swallowed hard and decided to be brave. The worst he could do was shove her hand away. She reached up to hold his jaw in her hand, and she informed him truthfully, "It's rather attractive, you know… how much older than me you are."

He scoffed and shook his head, insisting, "You like powerful men, and that means older men. That's all."

"I think I just like you," she shrugged helplessly. "I seem to have liked you quite a lot before. I think I like you now."

He lowered his eyes and shook his head a little, and he told her,

"I'm not going to give you a new memory of sex."

"Why not?" Bellatrix demanded. When he glared at her, she insisted, "I am more than willing. All I want is a… sample."

"A sample," Voldemort repeated incredulously. "Am I a grocer?"

"No." Bellatrix felt frustrated. "I just…  _want_  it. And I've yet to hear a good reason from you why you don't. If you feel no desire toward me, then -"

"That's not it at all," Voldemort clipped, and Bellatrix blustered,

"Well, what is it, then?"

"I have work to do!" Voldemort insisted.

"Right this very minute?" Bellatrix demanded exasperatedly, and Voldemort's cheeks went red.

"You know what I mean."

"I'm afraid I do not," she whispered, and then she added, "Master."

He grabbed at her face then, making her gasp, and he held her tightly as he told her, "I can not afford to become mentally distracted by you."

Bellatrix threw up an eyebrow. "So  _having_  sex instead of just thinking about it will lead to more distraction?"

"What makes you believe I've been thinking about sex with you?" Voldemort pinched his lips, and Bellatrix laughed a little.

"Your eyes give you away," she informed him. He looked defensive then, and his dark gaze glittered strangely. Bellatrix nodded. "I could see it when I walked into your office. I could see it this morning at breakfast. I know what you've been thinking about."

"You're no Legilimens," he taunted her, and she tipped her head and retorted back,

"Who needs Legilimency when the eyes opposite you are so very transparent? Master?"

"Bella." He was breathing quickly now, and she just nodded.

"Yes."

He huffed, seeming irritated and resigned, and he shut his eyes. His voice was softer then, just above a whisper, as he touched his forehead to hers and mumbled, "Bella."

"Yes," she whispered, and he admitted,

"I want to craft a new memory for you."

"Thank you." She kissed him then, reaching her mouth boldly toward hers, and he was more than receptive to the kiss. He groaned a little when Bellatrix pushed her tongue up between his lips and dragged it around his mouth. He started to push her back onto the bed, and she instinctively moved until she was lying back against the pillows. He came with her, following her until he was lying above her, and he moved his mouth from hers. He urged her to tip her face back, and Bellatrix gasped when he put his mouth to her neck.

Suddenly she'd flushed wet between her legs, because he was licking from the crook of her neck to the spot below her ear, then sucking there, over and over, in long, slow strokes. It felt good,  _so_ good, and she held his head in her hands because it seemed like the right thing to do. His hair was rough and coarse beneath her hands, which she liked. She blinked slowly as he sucked harder on her neck, and she worried,

"You'll mark me up."

"Oh, again?" he teased, and she couldn't help laughing. He kissed her mouth so firmly then that Bellatrix couldn't breathe, and finally he broke away and used his right hand to edge up her black velvet skirt. Bellatrix helped him, wriggling out of her black knickers as he edged them down. She kicked them away, and she felt dizzy as Voldemort's fingers trailed up the inside of her leg.

"You've never done this?" she asked in disbelief, and he confirmed breathlessly,

"Not with you, no."

"Mmph." Bellatrix fisted at the blankets as Voldemort's fingers dragged over her wet entrance, the pads of this fingertips gliding along her slick folds and then toying with her sensitised clit. Bellatrix moaned softly, and he surprised her by kissing the other side of her neck as he pushed one, then two fingers inside of her and twisted. That felt good, she thought. So good. His thumb flicked at her clit and his tongue dug against her neck, and after a few minutes of sweeping, solid movements, Bellatrix started to feel a coiling in her belly, a deep and solid heat in her core, and she murmured,

"I think I'm going to… oh…  _oh_ … I think…"

"Come for me," Voldemort murmured against her neck. He seemed worked up himself; his breath was hot and shallow and his voice was far more rickety than she was used to hearing it be. He deepened the strokes of his tongue and his fingers, and he hummed against her skin, and Bellatrix snapped. She cried out, arching her back and feeling her body snapping and clenching around his fingers. His mouth was on hers again then, and she moaned loudly against his lips, her hands holding his face and shaking like mad.

She was still coming down from the high, from the heat and the buzzing, when he sat up and informed her,

"There's your memory, Bellatrix."

She felt a little confused. That wasn't sex, was it? She sat up slowly, her neck feeling bruised and her body still throbbing with satisfaction. He handed her her knickers, which she slid on, and she glanced between his legs, unable to discern anything through his thick layers of robes.

"Aren't you meant to put your erect penis inside of me?" she asked, and he just shook his head as he told her,

"Today was… I want you to remember what it means to feel pleasure at someone else's hand. That's all."

"Oh." Bellatrix was abruptly embarrassed, and she gulped as she nodded and said, "Well… thanks. That was… erm… that was really nice."

He smirked and tipped his head. "Really nice, eh? I appreciate the glowing review. As for the other things… some other time, perhaps. We'll work with the Pensieve tomorrow. I think you've had more than enough today, what with meeting your parents and… making new memories."

Bellatrix smiled a bit at him and asked,

"When can I fight for you again?

He tucked her curls behind her ear, looking thoughtful, and then he reached into his robes and pulled out a strange, bent wand. He handed it to her, and she realised it was hers. It felt good in her hand. Natural. He nodded and said,

"I trust you not to hex me now. We'll keep working with the Pensieve, and we'll get you practising duelling with Rodolphus and Rabastan over the next week or so. The next time there's a battle that you're fit to fight, you'll fight."

She wrapped her fingers carefully around her wand, feeling her eyes well a little, and she nodded at him.

"Thank you, My Lord."

He just stared at her for a long moment, his dark eyes shining just like they had in the memories, in a way that gave him right away, and he said quietly,

"Have a good night, Bella."

He rose and slowly walked out of her room, out of the suite, leaving Bellatrix pink-cheeked and satisfied and holding her wand.

**Author's Note: Whew! Well, they finally did** _ **something**_   **substantial. And I think it's clear they are strongly attracted to each other. Now what happens when he sees her conduct dueling training with Rodolphus and Rabastan? And what other memories will she see in the Pensieve? Mwah hahaha.**


	8. A Marvelous Excuse to Get Doubly Drunk

" _Colloshoo_ ," incanted Rodolphus Lestrange, and Bellatrix immediately flicked her wand in a straight line down and cried out,

" _Protego!_ " A Shield Charm was built around her, which she quickly dissolved as she swished her wand and murmured quietly, " _Flipendo! Flipendo!_ "

Rodolphus, and then Rabastan, were taken by surprise by Bellatrix's quickly materialised Knockback Jinxes. Each brother was sent flying backward through the air, landing with thuds upon the rain-soaked grass outside Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix turned and smirked at Voldemort, and he applauded her with his leather-gloved hands.

"Well done," he said as her husband and brother-in-law staggered to their feet. He walked down the stone steps outside the manor and out onto the grass, pushing down the hood of his waterproofed cloak. He watched then as Bellatrix snapped the tip of her wand quickly toward Rabastan, who was still standing up, and cried,

" _Petrificus Totalus!_ "

" _Silencio!_ " Rodolphus cried, and Bellatrix absorbed the Silencing Charm as Rabastan went rigid and toppled over, his thick form hitting the ground hard. Bellatrix scowled rather playfully at Rodolphus and aimed her wand at him, and suddenly he was screaming, breaking out in boils. Voldemort raised his eyebrows, impressed that Bellatrix had managed a Stinging Hex nonverbally, even under Rodolphus' Silencing Charm.

"All right. Let them go. You win," he told her. She crossed her arms over her chest, and she said petulantly,

"I think I'll let the spells wear off."

Voldemort gave her a sour look and demanded, "Do as I say. Release them."

She went serious then and bowed her head. "Master.  _Finite Incantatem. Finite Incantatem._ "

The brothers shivered in the chilly rain as they staggered over toward the steps, and Rabastan complained,

"I'm going to be all bruised up, Bells."

"Well, that's why they make Butterfly Weed Balm," she teased him, and Rodolphus asked,

"How'd you know how to duel so well if you've lost your memory?"

She shrugged. "I've lost my experiences, not my skills or knowledge. It's all instinct. I just sort of…  _know_."

"Well, I for one am grateful to see that Pinky Tarlington was a complete idiot in how she managed Obliviating you," Voldemort said. "If she'd been intelligent, she would have gone the other way. She would have taken your memory of spells, of skill sets. Instead, she took your memory of your childhood. What good did that do her?"

"Well, she's dead now," Bellatrix shrugged nonchalantly, "and, frankly, the Auror force is probably the better for it. She seems like she was a complete idiot. Pinky. Stupid name."

Voldemort curled up his lips and told the trio, "It's damned freezing, and I'm sure you're all soaked to the bone. Who's in the mood for hot Butterbeers and shortbread, eh?"

"Oh, that sounds delicious," Rabastan exclaimed, seeming to forget entirely about how Bellatrix had tossed him about. Soon enough they were all in the lounge inside with Abraxas Malfoy, sipping on clear glass mugs of heated Butterbeer and nibbling on warm shortbread, and Rodolphus said,

"Bella, you don't remember this, but every Christmas for the last few years, the Death Eaters have had a great gathering, and we've always had hot Butterbeer and shortbread there."

"And do you always have it in April?" Bellatrix asked. Rabastan winked and said,

"I have hot Butterbeer whenever I possibly can. Even in July."

"When is everyone's birthday?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort realised that made sense for her to ask. She didn't know things like that. Rabastan answered first.

"The second of June," he said. "Nineteen fifty."

"Second of June," she repeated, "and you're a year older than me. Right. Second of June. Rabastan."

She was good at committing things to memory, Voldemort thought. He sipped his Butterbeer, savouring the caramel notes, and Rodolphus said,

"Mine's the seventeenth of November, in nineteen fifty-one. So, not quite two months after yours."

"Right. Seventeenth of November. Rodolphus is the seventeenth of November," Bellatrix nodded. She found out then that Abraxas Malfoy had been born in March of 1928, and then it got to Voldemort, and she hesitantly asked,

"Well, My Lord? What about you?"

He considered telling her that Lord Voldemort's birthday was precisely no one's business. But Tom RIddle's birthday had been celebrated by his gang, so of course Abraxas knew it. He cleared his throat and said,

"The thirty-first of December, nineteen twenty-six."

She grinned. "New Year's Eve?"

He shrugged. "What of it?"

"Your birthday is New Year's Eve?" She giggled a little and drank from her Butterbeer. "What a marvelous excuse to get doubly drunk."

Rabastan and Rodolphus seemed surprised by her candid, frank attitude toward him, and Voldemort flicked his eyes to see a look of shock on Abraxas Malfoy's face. Voldemort just shrugged again, but Bellatrix barrelled on,

"I'll bet you throw the grandest New Year's galas and insist that everyone pay strictest homage to the Dark Lord's birthday."

"Bella!" Rodolphus hissed, and she glared at him.

"What? It'd be fun."

"Bells." Rabastan reached for her elbow and leaned close to her, and he said gently, "Watch your tone, Bells."

"She's fine," Voldemort affirmed, though Malfoy and both Lestrange brothers seemed afraid to be in the presence of someone speaking to Voldemort in such a way. He tipped his head up and decided to play along so as not to look the fool.

"Would you get spectacularly drunk, Bellatrix, to celebrate my birthday? Vomit all over yourself? Pass out in the middle of the floor before the clock even struck midnight? A marvelous excuse to get doubly drunk. Hm."

He sipped his Butterbeer, and she smirked as she took a bite of shortbread. She washed it down with some warm Butterbeer and informed him,

"There's an art to getting drunk. Just drunk enough to be ridiculous without losing consciousness or being sick."

"Oh, and you speak from experience, I take it?" Voldemort said mockingly. "You've got memories of drunkenness, have you?"

"Perhaps you'll show me in the Pensieve, Master," she suggested lightly, "or perhaps you'll show me at the bottom of a bottle of Firewhisky."

There was silence in the room then, and Voldemort narrowed his eyes at her.

"Go up to the burgundy suite and wait for me," he said firmly, and she stared at her half-finished Butterbeer and biscuits. He snapped, "Now."

"Fine.  _Master._ " Bellatrix rose, and as she walked by him in a huff, Voldemort snatched at her wrist. She gasped in pain and whirled, and he sent wandless magic seething through her Dark Mark, making her cry out in agony. She writhed where she stood, and he snarled at her,

"Don't you ever speak to me with such disrespect again. Remember what will happen to you if you do not recover as my Death Eater properly. You will be eliminated. Go upstairs and wait for me.  _Now_."

She stood up straighter, glanced over her shoulder at her husband and her brother-in-law, and then bowed her head contritely to Voldemort.

"Yes, Master."

* * *

"You wanted to see a memory of drunkenness," Voldemort said as he came walking into the sitting room. He shut the door behind him, and Bellatrix sat opposite him as he sank onto the sofa and opened the wooden box containing the Pensieve. He brought his wand to his temple and shut his eyes, remembering a time when Bellatrix and Rodolphus had arrived to Malfoy Manor very drunk after celebrating New Year's Eve. They'd been unable to fulfil their duties their night, which had irritated Voldemort, and he'd scolded them afterward. Bellatrix had been worse off than Rodolphus. He drew the memory out from his temple and put it into the Pensieve, and then he pointed in, and he and Bellatrix dove downward.

"Malfoy Manor," Bellatrix observed, looking around. "I was drunk here?"

"You could have Splinched Apparating this drunk," Voldemort's voice was saying. Voldemort took Bellatrix by the wrist and led her toward his office. Inside, the washed-out shadows of the two of them stood facing one another, and Bellatrix asked,

"Where's Rodolphus?"

"I'd already sent him home," Voldemort said sharply.

"When was this?' Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort sighed deeply.

"It was… New Year's Eve."

"Oh." Bellatrix looked like someone had poured cold water on her. She slowly approached the conversation between herself and Voldemort, and she studied their faces. "I didn't know it was your birthday, I don't think."

"No, you didn't. I called you and Rodolphus here for a strategic meeting, but you were both already very drunk," Voldemort said. His shadow said sharply,

"Bellatrix…  _Bella._ "

"So sorry, M-Master." She stumbled a little, giggling, and he caught her in his arms to keep her from falling. She held the front of his robes and stared up at him, and he just glared angrily down at her. He noticed something in his eyes then, a glint he would have never noticed before. It was a sorrowful sort of shine, a longing, a need. He let go of Bellatrix's biceps, and he rubbed at her shoulders and told her gently,

"I'm going to take you home so you don't get hurt. Don't ever get this drunk again, no matter the date. There could be an emergency; I need you in fighting order."

"Yes, Master," Bellatrix drawled.. She was still holding his robes, still staring up at him, and in her face, he now read desire. He could see it so plainly now. She  _wanted_  him. If he'd had offered to bend her over his desk in that moment, she'd have Vanished her own knickers, he could see now. He blinked and watched Bellatrix stare at the memory of herself, and she raised her eyes to Voldemort as she said seriously,

"I craved you."

He just nodded, and then she looked at the memory of him, and she observed,

"You were confused. You were angry with me, but you… wanted something."

"I don't know." Voldemort turned his face away, and he confirmed, "I was angry."

"You only look a little angry," Bellatrix said. He glanced back at himself and watched as he stroked at Bellatrix's arms with his thumbs, as he brought one hand up to her curls to pet them, and he heard himself say very softly,

"You must be more careful. Understood?"

"Why did you speak to me like that if you were so angry?" Bellatrix demanded, and Voldemort just shook his head. He decided to pull out of the Pensieve, yanking Bellatrix with him. He'd had enough. He hadn't realised the memory would reveal so much. He'd only wanted to show her that she'd been to drunk on a New Year's Eve. Instead, he'd shown her a conversation that had been more intimate than he'd realised. He had not known at the time that it had felt like that, looked like that. If he'd known, he would not have shown it to her.

Now he sat on the sofa, staring across the little table, and Bellatrix cleared her throat as she folded her hands on her lap and demanded matter-of-factly,

"Tell me the truth about us."

"What truth?" Voldemort snapped. "There is no truth to tell. You and I were never a couple. We were never physical. We were never in love. I am not hiding anything."

"Not even from yourself?" Bellatrix raised her eyebrows, and Voldemort felt his heart thunk like metal on metal inside in chest. He seethed a breath through his nostrils and insisted,

"I had no idea that I… looked at you like that. I didn't know that I spoke to you like that. I didn't remember it that way."

"Apparently you did," Bellatrix countered, "My Lord."

He licked his lip and tried to speak, but no words came out. Bellatrix tipped her head and suggested,

"Is it possible that, because you'd sworn off witches entirely, you made a conscious decision to view me as a sycophant, no matter what your words and actions suggested? Is it possible that you allowed yourself to behave one way and feel another way? Master?"

"Stop." He stood, walking over to the window, and Bellatrix quickly followed him. She wound up standing beside him, and he was tempted to fling her against the wall with a charged Knockback Jinx. But if her show on the lawn had been any indication, she'd just block it and hit him with a hex. He turned his face to her and said angrily,

"Yes, Bellatrix, it is possible that I suppressed emotion toward you so that I could focus entirely on the pursuit of my goals. It is possible that I chose to interpret everything as one-sided adoration, despite what my eyes and my hands and my words tell you in the memories. Yes. That is possible. Are you happy now?"

"No," she whispered, "because I am different, aren't I?"

"What?" He furrowed his brows. "Yes, you're a bit different since your memory was wiped. What of it?"

She was silent for a moment until she finally asked,

"What do you think of me right now?"

"I am not going to be subjected to this line of interrogation." Voldemort started to storm out of the room, but then he felt something pulling at his fingers, and he whirled round angrily, ready to strike. Bellatrix was holding his hand, staring calmly at him, and she asked him again,

"What do you think of me these days, Master? I'm obviously not the groveling sycophant your mind conveniently painted me as before."

"No. You're a bit obnoxious now, if I'm honest," he growled, and she threw up an eyebrow.

"Is that all? A bit obnoxious?"

_And beautiful, and intelligent, and terrifyingly skilled_ , he wanted to say. Instead he just blinked and took her face in his hands, and he shrugged.

"Go on, then. Read my eyes, since you're so damned skilled with it. Go on and read my eyes and tell me how I feel toward you right this moment."

She stared up at him, and he let his gaze reveal everything. He thought about how lovely she was, about how impressive she'd been dueling her husband and her brother-in-law. He thought about how her snarky new personality almost aroused him, about the way he liked to kiss and touch her. He stared down at her and thought about all of that, and she nodded up at him and whispered,

"All right, then."

"I'll show you moderate drunkenness sometime," he promised, "but not on New Year's, and not at the bottom of a bottle of firewhisky. Understood?"

"Understood, Master," she confirmed. He bent to kiss her forehead, then her cheekbones, then her lips, gently, and he turned and walked out of her suite.

**Author's Note: Oh, my. He's been hiding things from himself, not just from her. And Bellatrix is a lot more able to pick up on emotion because her mind is a "clean slate," unburdened by preconceived notions from her previous memories. Now that it's becoming obvious that they're a bit like magnets, how long before they just sort of let loose and have a full-fledged affair? And when will Bellatrix fight in battle again?**

**I have a wedding I'm standing up in this weekend, but in between updates, thank you very much for reading and reviewing. I am incredibly grateful for any and all feedback on this story.**


	9. Those Memories Are Mine

Bellatrix walked slowly around Castle Lestrange, wandering through Rodolphus' memory. She ignored the memory itself, which was of Rodolphus and Rabastan playing wizards' chess. Bellatrix had come into the Pensieve with Rodolphus in order to see her home. It was a heavy stone castle with stained glass windows, and Bellatrix mused,

"This seems a lot like Hogwarts."

"They're similar, yes," Rodolphus told her. Bellatrix asked,

"We sleep in different beds, you and I?"

Rodolphus hesitated, and then he nodded. "Your suite is pale powder blue, next door to mine. Mine is mustard yellow."

"And you'd spent nights with Stella right next door to me?" Bellatrix asked. Rodolphus' cheeks went red, and he shook his head.

"No," he insisted. "No, she never stays the night. That… that always seemed wrong. I stayed at her flat in London sometimes. You never minded that."

"I wouldn't mind if she stayed here." Bellatrix studied a portrait of a plump old wizard on the wall and asked, "Who's this?"

"Some old relative. Marcus or Mark or something," Rodolphus said. He quickly added, "I wouldn't have Stella overnight next door to your rooms, Bella. And I wouldn't ask you into my rooms, either. I always came to you if… you know…"

"How often did we have sex, you and I?" Bellatrix asked plainly, and Rodolphus seemed surprised by her candor. She gulped, and he blinked a few times before he said softly,

"Only a few times in total. Our wedding night. Two or three times since. It never quite seemed like the right thing to do. But I've cared about you for years. I hope you know that."

"I can tell." Bellatrix smiled at him, and she observed, "I like these carpets. I think I'm in love with the Dark Lord."

She raised her eyes to Rodolphus, and he threw up his eyebrows as he nodded. He licked his bottom lip and said,

"Maybe you were before, too."

"I most certainly was," Bellatrix nodded. "These arched ceilings are gorgeous. I adore the starry sky murals up there. I don't think he loves me back, but he's attracted to me."

Rodolphus crossed his arms, and he asked her,

"Can we pull out of the memory now?"

"All right." Bellatrix shut her eyes and yanked herself out of the Pensieve, and soon enough she was staring across the low table in her sitting room at Rodolphus. He gave her a serious look and informed her,

"You are free to do whatever makes you happy. I care deeply for you and I want you to be happy. You and I were contracted by our parents to be married, and we've always been very good friends. I hope that a part of that friendship means wishing happiness for one another."

Bellatrix nodded and told Rodolphus,

"I want to have sex with him."

Rodolphus smirked and shrugged. "It has to be mutual, you know."

Bellatrix glanced away. "Yes. That's the rub, isn't it?"

Rodolphus huffed and said, "I think he thinks very differently about you than about anyone else, Bella. You go ahead and chase him if you want."

Bellatrix drummed her fingers on her knee and asked, "So my rooms are powder blue? Can that be changed?"

"You don't like powder blue?" Rodolphus sounded surprised.

"Not really," Bellatrix said, shaking her head. "Could it be dark blue? Dark like the night?"

Rodolphus grinned and nodded. "I'll have the paint, curtains, and linens redone before you move back into Castle Lestrange. It's not a problem."

"Thank you," Bellatrix said sincerely. She stood and walked over to where Rodolphus sat on the sofa, and she stood between his knees. She took his kind-looking face in her hands and tipped it up until he was staring up at her, and she bent to kiss his forehead.

"What a lucky wife I appear to be," she said, "and what a lucky girl Stella is."

Rodolphus took Bellatrix's hand and kissed her knuckles, squeezing her fingers a little, and he told her,

"You let me know if there are any other memories you need from me."

"I appreciate you showing me so much of school and the castle," Bellatrix said, for she and Rodolphus had spent an hour examining memories from Hogwarts and their home. She brushed her thumb over his hand and released it, and he stood. She nodded and told him, "Have a good night."

"You, too, Bella." He touched the tip of her nose and smiled a little at her, and he walked right out of her suite. Bellatrix sat, staring at the Pensieve, and she realised her father must have worked very hard to get her a good marriage match. If it truly was the Pureblood custom to match up daughters into marriages, then Cygnus Black III appeared to have tried hard to make his eldest daughter happy. He'd succeeded, it seemed. Rodolphus was happy in the marriage, and he had Stella. Bellatrix was happy in the marriage… and she wanted Lord Voldemort.

"Bella?"

She looked up, jarred from her reverie by the appearance of Lord Voldemort in the doorway of the sitting room. He waited there and asked cautiously,

"May I come in?"  
"Of course." Bellatrix was confused by the fact that he'd asked permission. He shut the door quietly behind him, and then she read an awful expression on his face. He frowned deeply as he walked into the sitting room, and he came to sit opposite Bellatrix.

"I've just received an owl," he said. "I'm afraid your Grandmother Irma Black has died."

"Oh." Bellatrix furrowed her brow. "That's too bad."

Voldemort cleared his throat. "She had a sudden attack of the heart. The Healers were not able to revive her. It was extremely unexpected."

"I'm sure my father must be very sad," Bellatrix nodded, and Voldemort seemed almost irritated as he said,

"You may not be especially broken up because you don't remember her, Bellatrix, but you and your grandmother had a very close relationship. I remember you often had tea with her; she was very supportive of you becoming a Death Eater. Your father and mother will expect you to be devastated. Your presence at the funeral is mandatory, and you will be expected to be very upset."

"Ah. Yes. Of course. Play-acting," Bellatrix nodded. She sighed. "When is the funeral?"

"In two days," Voldemort said. "If you'd like to go to your parents' house… you know, I'd really prefer if you didn't. You will not convince them. You should send an owl to your father stating that you are quite upset and still healing and that you'll be at the funeral on Sunday."

"All right," Bellatrix nodded. She hesitated and asked, "Will you be at the funeral, My Lord?"

"Erm… no." He shook his head and scratched at his hair a little. "You may not be aware of all the dynamics, but… Lord Voldemort does not really make public appearances anymore."

"Oh, he doesn't?" Bellatrix threw up an eyebrow. "Is he much too important for things like funerals?"

Voldemort rolled his eyebrows. "Image is very important, Bella."

"Of course it is. And maintaining an image of being too important for funerals is very important indeed," Bellatrix nodded gravely. He narrowed his eyes at her and shrugged.

"What, I'm meant to just show up at every wedding and funeral and birthday party as if I'm some ordinary man?"

Bellatrix choked out a laugh. "I'm sorry; I forgot just how very  _extraordinary_  you are in comparison to everyone else."

He seemed angry then, and she tempered herself, sighing and tucking her hair behind her ears as she conceded,

"I understand. You mustn't look like a mere mortal."

"A what?" he asked in a sharp clip, and Bellatrix shrugged.

"Like one of us. One of your servants. You must exist separately. For image. I understand. I'm just anxious, that's all. I'm going to botch this; I just know it. Someone's going to figure out that there's something very wrong with my brain."

"Rodolphus and Rabastan will take good care of you," Voldemort assured her, and Bellatrix chewed her lip as she nodded. She remembered what Rodolphus had said, that she was free to pursue her own happiness, and she found herself murmuring,

"He's a very good husband. A sweet man."

Voldemort said nothing in response to that. Bellatrix raised her eyes, and she nodded.

"I think I must have been very lucky to have been matched with him."

"Perhaps you were," Voldemort said in an irritated voice. "What do I care?"

His cheeks went a little pink, and his eyes flickered around the room, and suddenly Bellatrix realised he was…  _jealous?_  She frowned and scoffed a little, and she suggested,

"Perhaps I'll ask him to help me make a memory. You know what sort of memory I mean."

"Go ahead and do that," Voldemort snapped. "He's your husband. If you ask him, he'll help you."

"Hmm." Bellatrix folded her arms over her chest and nodded. "I wonder what Rodolphus' erect penis will feel like inside of my -"

"Bellatrix." Voldemort hissed her name, his face twisting into an ugly sneer, and he shook his head. Bellatrix raised her eyebrows and shrugged.

"He's my husband. I'm sure he'll help me make loads of new memories. After all, there are lots of positions, right? The man on top, the woman on top, the man behind. I'd like to make memories of all those variations, and I'm sure that Rodolphus will -"

"Stop it." Voldemort flew to his feet, storming over to where Bellatrix sat, and she felt her body flush wet and hot. She slowly stood, staring up at him, and she balled her fists at her sides. She spoke more quietly now, and she said to Voldemort,

"Rodolphus cares very deeply for me. I'm sure that the memories he'll make with me will be of gentle sex. Or perhaps he'll be more passionate. I won't know until he shows me. What do you think, Master? Will he be -"

She stopped then, for he'd taken her jaw in his hand and lowered his face until their lips were a hair's breadth apart, and he whispered against her lips,

"Those memories are mine to make."

"Are they?" Bellatrix's voice was steady, but her heart was racing. Voldemort kissed her, his mouth aggressive and smooth at once, and when he pulled away, he said in a low, sibillant tone,

"I will give you memories of moaning in the shower, of clutching at sheets whilst you come, of being filled with my seed, being pounded into the mattress. Those memories are  _mine_  to give you."

"Then give them to me, Master," Bellatrix whispered. "Please."

She yelped a little then, for she'd been swept off of her feet in a sudden gesture, and Voldemort was quickly carrying her into the burgundy bedroom.

**Author's Note: Wooooooo! He's finally giving in! Sorry for the cliffhanger, but as you can tell, the next chapter is going to be one giant lemon (followed by a funeral… lol. I would really appreciate feedback on this story, since I can see tons of people are reading it and I'd love to know your thoughts. Thanks so much!**


	10. Is It Always That Good?

"Master…"

She kept whispering that word, like it was some sort of prayer, as he yanked her dress up and off. He unhooked her bra and tossed it aside, and he wrenched her knickers down and threw them over the side of the bed. He stood up beside the bed and stared at her, at her naked body, and as he unclasped his brocade robe, he informed her,

"You're very pretty."

"Mmm." Bellatrix arched her back up a little, seeming hungry as she watched Voldemort shuck his outer robe and let it fall to the ground. Her right hand went between her legs, her fingers pulsing there, and he went harder than ever as he grunted softly and peeled off his black shirt. He unbuttoned his trousers and shoved them down with his underwear, kicking his shoes and socks off and shoving it all away. He stood beside her, stroking at his cock, and her eyes went wide.

"You don't remember, do you?" he asked quietly. "You don't remember what a man's cock looks like."

"No." Bellatrix sat up softly, reaching for him, wrapping her fingers around him and seeming to marvel for a moment before she said, "It's like velvet on stone."

"Mmph. Bellatrix." Voldemort tipped his head back and pushed his hips into her hand, encouraging her to stroke a little. When her thumb drifted over his tip, he hissed loudly, and she repeated the motion. He wrenched her hand away and ordered her, "Stop."

"Why?" she demanded, and he glared down at her.

"Because you're going to make me come," he told her, and she smirked. She bravely reached for him again, her fingers dancing around his tip, and her cheeks darkened. Voldemort let her stroke him, let her defy him, until everything started to go too tight, and he yanked her hand away again.

" _Stop._ "

"Sorry." Bellatrix's eyes were round and sparkling, so beautiful, and he crawled onto the bed to hover above her. He reached down to feel between her legs, and when he sensed how wet she was, he shut his eyes and whispered,

"Your body wants this."

"Obviously," she scoffed quietly, and he ignored her insolence so he could bend to kiss at her breast. He planted kisses all along the small, soft cushion of her breast and then dragged her nipple between his lips, suckling hard until she clutched at his head and moaned loudly.

"That hurts a little," she complained, and he let up a bit from how hard he was sucking. He licked, soothing her nipple inside his mouth, and she whispered, "Better."

He massaged her other breast with his hand, flicking at her nipple with his thumb, and then he moved his mouth up to her neck. His mouth latched naturally onto her skin there, and she gasped. Her fingernails began stroking and rubbing circles on his scalp, which felt quite nice, and Voldemort murmured,

"I think I have wanted this for… a long while."

"I think we both have, Master," Bellatrix guessed, and he responded by licking hard from the crook of her neck up to the place beneath her ear. He suckled on the lobe of her ear and whispered,

"I want it now. I want you now, Bella. I do."

"Master." She kept stroking his scalp, making him shiver, and he reached between her legs again. She was so wet that he just let his fingers sit there for a moment, let her body drip and leak all over him in her intense arousal. She squirmed a bit, and he kissed her heated cheek and instructed her,

"Spread your legs and bring them up around my waist, Bella."

"All right," she whispered, sounding very breathless. She was so soaked that her fluids were streaming slowly down the inside of her thigh, and Voldemort stroked over her entrance to feel that it was inflamed and warm. She was beyond ready for him. Her body would receive him and finish for him, he knew. She did as he'd commanded and brought her legs up around him as he knelt above her, and he brought his torso up, staring down at Bellatrix.

She was so damned pretty, he thought. Her nipples were dark and hard, standing at attention from her pillowy breasts. The pink flush of her arousal had leached from her cheeks down her neck and over her shoulders, and she was panting a little, her lips parted and her eyes glazed a little. Her curls were messy, lying around her face on the pillow, and Voldemort informed her again,

"You're very pretty, Bellatrix."

She smiled just a little, for once not looking snarky. He aimed the tip of his cock at her swollen, sopping entrance, and when he slid in, her body welcomed him with a tight, warm embrace. Her eyes rolled back a little, and her hands clutched at the sheets, and she whispered,

"Oh. Oh,  _oh_ …"

"Bella." Voldemort reached for her narrow hips, holding onto her and feeling a sudden flush of satisfaction as he stroked a few times. Every push in sent heat through his ears, and every drag out blurred his vision. He was dizzy after just a few thrusts, and he knew he wouldn't last. He'd gone far too long without a woman to last, and she was entirely too pretty, and he cared for her beyond mere lust. He shut his eyes and pumped his hips like a machine, reaching between him and Bellatrix and stroking at her clit. He tried to focus on pleasuring her, on keeping his motions smooth and steady.

"Oh!" She was tensing around him. Her legs were squeezing around his waist. Her hands were flailing at his bare stomach. "Master… Master!  _Oh!_ "

She was coming, he realised, and he sped his hips up as he felt her body clenching snugly around his cock. He forced his eyes open to see her twisting a little on the mattress, her back arched up and her mouth fallen open. He took his thumb from her clit, and she squeezed at his arms as she whispered,

"Oh, Merlin's Beard, Master…"

"Bella." He jerked his hips roughly, unable to keep up his pace or his rhythm as a sudden wave of pleasure took him over. He stopped then, for a snap of bliss whipped through his veins, and he felt his come pumping into Bellatrix's body in spurts. He burned with satisfaction for a warm moment, and he whispered her name a few times, and then all of a sudden he wanted to hold her.

He stayed still for a long while, until his cock started to go soft and his come was leaking out of Bellatrix's body, and then he let himself slide out of her. He wanted to lie down beside her, he thought. He wanted to curl up with her, both of them naked, and hold her. He wanted to kiss her dewy forehead and mutter to her that she was beautiful and she'd pleased him, that he felt good and that she'd made his body come alive. He wanted to tell her that she wasn't a terrible distraction, that he didn't mind being with her at all, that he very much enjoyed the physicality of being with her. He wanted to tell her that he thought she was intelligent and beautiful, that he liked her just fine the way she was now.

Instead he reached for his wand and Scoured and Siphoned, and then he stood up and was silent as he got dressed. He handed Bellatrix her knickers and bra and dress, and as she pulled on her clothes, he told her,

"You need to send an owl to your father about your grandmother. I'll get in touch with Rodolphus; he'll need to be extra careful to protect you at the funeral."

"All right," Bellatrix said quietly. She sat on the bed with her knees pulled up to her chest, and she seemed completely shocked. Voldemort clasped up his brocade outer robe and asked crisply,

"Something wrong?"

"Is it always that good?" she asked plainly, and he just shook his head and answered,

"No."

Her cheeks went a little dark, and she blinked a few times. She just nodded and whispered,

"Thank you."

Voldemort twirled his wand in his hand and hesitated, and then he said carefully,

"I'm sorry about your grandmother."

Bellatrix nodded once more and whispered again,

"Thank you."

"Goodnight, Bellatrix." Voldemort felt sick leaving her, for some reason, but she just blinked rapidly and mumbled,

"Night."

He bent and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, and then an even gentler one on her lips, and he whispered more affectionately,

"Goodnight, Bella."

Her lips were still near his and her breath was shaking and warm as she answered him, "Goodnight, My Lord."

He stood then, nodding tightly at her, and he tucked his wand away as he walked as quickly as he possibly could from her bedroom, feeling more sated and more hungry than he'd ever felt in his life.

**Author's Note: Yeahhhhhhh! They actually did it! Woo hoo! Now for her grandmother's funeral… what could possibly go wrong? I am standing up in a wedding tomorrow and have events scheduled from 7:00 am until midnight, so I won't be able to write at all until Sunday. In the meantime, please do let me know what you think of the story thus far. Thanks for reading!**


	11. Image is Very Important

"Bella! Oh, isn't it just the most awful thing?" Narcissa, the one Bellatrix only  _really_  remembered as a blonde little baby, came dashing up and threw her arms around Bellatrix. She hugged back and patted between Narcissa's shoulder blades, and she said rather awkwardly,

"There, there, Narcissa. I'm sure Gran wouldn't want us sad."

"What are you talking about?" asked the other sister, the one Bellatrix knew was called Andromeda. She was taller and leaner with heavily lidded eyes and dark auburn hair that fell in heavy waves around her ivory face. She scoffed and said, "Gran loved nothing more than everyone getting all worked up over a good death. So, Bella; I heard you got hurt. Mum sent us an owl at school. She said you'd been hurt, but you look all right."

"I'm fine. Thank you." Bellatrix smiled just a little, and her two sisters eyed one another curiously. Bellatrix huffed. She wasn't getting it right. She wasn't carrying herself right; she wasn't speaking right. She wasn't even sure what she was getting wrong. Luckily, Rodolphus came up with a glass of red wine and handed it to her, and she sipped very generously from it and thanked him in a low mumble.

"Hullo, girls," Rodolphus said to his sisters-in-law. "So sorry about your Gran. Really shocked to hear about this."

"We were absolutely gobsmacked when Professor Dumbledore called us into his office," Narcissa said, "and then he took us to Hogsmeade and Daddy came to bring us home. It's been mad. We have to go back to school tomorrow."

"Well, in any case, it's a damnable shame. She was, what, fifty-nine? Far too young. I'm really so sorry," Rodolphus said again. "Bella, they've got the food out, if you're hungry."

"Thanks. See you, girls." Bellatrix moved away from her sisters, staying close to her husband, and she muttered, "They were suspicious. I can't get it quite right."

"I don't know how to describe it," Rodolphus admitted quietly as they walked up to the table of stuffed mushrooms and grilled asparagus. "It's just… you're a little different in a way that's enough to notice but hard to pin down."

"Hmph." Bellatrix made a small plate of food and began eating it at a high top table, looking around the lounge of her grandparents' country house. They'd buried her grandmother out back in a dour ceremony, and Bellatrix had mucked up by barely recognising her grandfather and forgetting his name entirely. Pollux. His name was Pollux. And then she'd called him  _Grandfather_ , when apparently she'd spent her entire life calling him  _Papa_. That would have been good to know ahead of time, she'd scolded Rodolphus.

After the burial, the mourners had come inside for a receiving line, where Bellatrix had stood in between her mother and father and had nodded at dozens of people she'd pretended to know. She'd recognised some faces from memories Voldemort had shown her in the Pensieve, and whenever she could, she'd preemptively said a name.  _Mr Avery. Mr Yaxley_. Most of the time, though, she'd just said,  _Thank you so much for coming_ , and she'd felt like a bobblehead doll by the time the enchanted string quartet had begun playing sorrowful music in the corner.

"Rodolphus?" Bellatrix asked carefully, chewing a stuffed mushroom. She washed it down with some red wine, and he gave her a cautious look. She surreptitiously aimed her finger toward the young witch with the golden waves on the other side of the lounge, and she said softly, "That's Stella Nott, isn't it? I knew her face in the receiving line. She avoided my eyes, but she smiled a little."

"Oh. Yes, that's Stella," Rodolphus said, a bit awkwardly. Bellatrix chewed her lip, wondering why she didn't feel jealousy. That was her husband's lover. Shouldn't she feel jealous. She grinned and noted,

"Our names rhyme. Stella. Bella."

"You noted that years ago." Rodolphus sipped his own wine.

"I suppose it would be odd for us to go speak with her here in public," Bellatrix said, and Rodolphus scoffed gently.

"I don't think that would be appropriate, Bella. I can reintroduce you soon, if you'd like. She can't know, of course, that you don't remember her."

"No. Of course not. She's beautiful. She seems like a sweet girl," Bellatrix said, popping another mushroom into her mouth. She chewed it and rubbed at Rodolphus' arm a little. As she took another small sip of wine, swallowing her bite, he gave her a sad little half smile, and she reassured him, "I like that she makes you happy."

"You do?" He blinked quickly a few times, glancing over toward Stella and then back and Bellatrix, shaking his head a little. He whispered, "I always felt rather terrible, you know. Arranged marriage or not, in love or not, I always felt like a son of a bitch about it."

"No," Bellatrix insisted. She stared at Stella, who was animatedly discussing something with her father and Mr Avery. She was dressed in a beautiful flowing black robe, her narrow waist cinched by a wide satin belt. She was very pretty, Bellatrix thought, and she didn't mind one bit. Rodolphus should be happy. He was a good wizard. He served Voldemort bravely. He cared deeply about Bellatrix and didn't demand anything physically of her. Why shouldn't he be allowed to be in love and be happy?

"You are not a son of a bitch about it," Bellatrix told him, sipping a little more wine and squeezing at his hand. He let out a very long sigh, and suddenly his face looked so relieved that he almost seemed like he would cry.

"Bellatrix, dear?"

She turned at the sound of her name to see her father stepping up, his own face a bit puffy from real tears shed over the course of the day. After all, it had been his mother (and Bellatrix's Aunt Walburga's, apparently) who had passed so unexpectedly. Cygnus Black III put his hand on Bellatrix's shoulder and asked her sincerely,

"How are you holding up, sweet girl? I'm so shocked you've stayed so calm."

"Bella's a strong woman," Rodolphus said confidently, and Bellatrix knew he was covering for her. People had been expecting more of a reaction out of her. He was cueing her, she thought. She nodded and made her voice shake a little as she told her father,

"I think I'm still just in shock a bit. Can't believe she's actually gone."

Rodolphus nodded, and Cygnus squeezed at Bellatrix's shoulder.

"I know. I know. That'll take some time to sink in, I'm afraid. No more… oh, my. No more tea with Gran. Oh, Bella."

He wrapped her up into an embrace then, and Bellatrix felt him tremble a little with emotion. She rubbed at his shoulder, feeling very awkward, and she said,

"It's all right, Daddy."

Suddenly someone gasped, and a low voice murmured,

"It's  _him!_  It's Lord Voldemort!"

"I can't believe he's come!" someone else whispered frantically. Bellatrix pulled away from her father quickly and saw none other than Lord Voldemort, dressed in elegant, formal black brocade robes, sweeping confidently into the lounge of the Black family's country estate. People moved aside like a parting sea, making way for him, and the enchanted instruments' music even faltered for a moment, as if even the unmanned violins knew that a great figure had entered the room.

"Master," Rodolphus Lestrange said, bowing reverently as Voldemort stepped right on up to where Bellatrix stood with him and Cygnus Black. Voldemort nodded and flicked his eyes to Bellatrix, who couldn't help smirking a little at him. Voldemort ignored the awed silence and the dozens of eyes on him in the lounge, and he spoke loudly enough for most everyone to hear as he said,

"Cygnus. Walburga. Bellatrix, Narcissa, Andromeda… Pollux. Druella, Orion, Regulus and Sirius and all the relatives of the suddenly and shockingly departed Irma Black. My goodness. What a crater she has left in our community. What a monumental figure of grace and honour this witch was and always will be in our memories, hm? I came only very briefly to pay my respects and to offer you my most heartfelt condolences."

"Sir. I cannot… I could never thank you properly for…" Cygnus couldn't seem to find the words, so Bellatrix stepped up, tipping up her chin, and she said with confidence,

"The Black family is honoured beyond measure to have you recognise and acknowledge my grandmother's significance in the Pureblood community, sir, and to take time from your day to come here to our celebration of her life. We are most grateful to you for it. Perhaps, if it is not too much to ask, you might make a toast in my grandmother's honour, if I might fetch you some wine. Red or white?"

He curled up half his mouth, seeming almost proud, and he said softly, "Red, if you please."

"Of course." She walked quickly to the drinks table and fetched him a glass of red wine, handed it to him, and he cleared his throat, raising his glass and turning back toward the room.

"Let us drink to the memory of a witch who was a paragon of Pureblood virtue, a fine example of what it means to be a hard-working, honourable, kind-hearted woman of robust soul. Let us drink in honour of Irma Crabbe Black, whose blood was most pure, whose family tree is srong and stable. Let us drink for the keen loss we feel of her, and pledge to remember her always. To Irma Black."

"To Irma Black!" cried everyone in the room. Walburga and Cygnus Black both dabbed handkerchiefs at their eyes after they drank, and as Bellatrix sipped, she found Voldemort's eyes. Nobody seemed brave enough to approach him, and after the toast was over, the music started up again, and people began to engage in low, quiet conversation. Bellatrix walked straight up to Voldemort, standing quite near him, and she said softly,

"I thought you were entirely too important for funerals… Master."

He cocked up an eyebrow and sipped his wine. "Image is very important, Bella. Remember? Besides, I had absolutely no confidence in your ability to put on a good show."

"I was embracing and comforting my father right when you walked in," she said defensively, and he snorted.

"You looked like you'd never met the man. How did things go with your sisters?"

Bellatrix hesitated, and Voldemort sipped his wine, nodding.

"Mmm-hmm. Just as I suspected. I think you should come back to the manor with me. Tell your father you've got a monstrous headache from your injury. He's feeling just fine about me at the moment, so now's a good time for an exit."

"Yes, My Lord." Bellatrix set her glass down, and as she passed Rodolphus, he asked gently,

"Are you leaving?"

She nodded, and he kissed her forehead and rubbed at her shoulder a little. She stared up at him, surprised by that, but he said very softly,

"You really are the best wife anyone could want, you know. And whether you're sad for it or not, I am sorry about your Gran, Bella."

"Thanks." She cupped his jaw and rubbed her thumb beneath his eye, and they smiled at one another for a moment before she let him go. She felt Voldemort's eyes on her, so she moved quickly away from Rodolphus and found her father.

"Daddy," she said, and he turned, looking much happier than before. Voldemort had been right; his mood was much improved from the toast given by the Dark Lord himself. Bellatrix informed Cygnus, "I've had an awful headache for over an hour now. Didn't want to complain. But the Dark Lord is a little concerned; he's like to do some healing, if that's all right."

"Oh, dear. Of course. Please, go do what you must. I only hope you feel much better very soon. I'm so very glad you were here. My sweet girl." Cygnus held Bellatrix's face and gave her a sorrowful little smile, and when he nodded, she covered his hands with hers and squeezed. She said a quick farewell to her sisters and mother and then walked outside with Voldemort, who hadn't spoken in a while. She went with him by Side-Along Apparition to Malfoy Manor, and by the time the reached the burgundy suite, she realised he hadn't spoken to her in fifteen minutes.

"My Lord?" she asked as he pushed open the door to the rooms, "Have I offended you in some way?"

"I was going to work with the Pensieve," he said, "but, erm… perhaps another day. I'll see you later. Make sure you get some dinner later on. Have a good evening."

"Wait." Bellatrix grabbed at his elbow, irritated, and he huffed a breath when he turned around. He pinched his lips at her and nearly slammed the door shut. Bellatrix shrugged and demanded, "What have I done wrong? Is it because I didn't act well enough? I did my very best! That was a  _lot_  of people to fool."

"I did not realise you and your husband were actually intimate," Voldemort said very tightly. 'If I'd known that, I would not have… pardon me, but I have no intention of being the second fiddle for a married witch."

"What?" Bellatrix snapped. Voldemort's eyes flashed, and he said sharply,

"I saw him kiss you and rub and your arm  _very_  affectionately. It is obvious that the two of you -"

"Were talking about his mistress before you arrived?" Bellatrix raised her eyebrows. "Yes. We were. We were discussing how I approve of him loving Stella. That kiss on the forehead and rub on the shoulder in the most physically intimate touch I remember Rodolphus Lestrange every giving me."

There was a very long pause, and Voldemort stared at the ground until he finally said, "Oh."

Bellatrix choked a bitter laugh. "You're  _jealous_."

"Stop that," Voldemort snarled. "I will not be mocked."

"I'm not mocking you; I'm in disbelief," Bellatrix said. Voldemort's cheeks flushed very red, and he shrugged.

"Right. Anyway. I'll see you some other time. Sorry about your grandmother."

"Thanks again for the toast," Bellatrix said lightly, and Voldemort blinked as he reminded her,

"Image is very important, Bella."

"Hmm. Yes, it is." She crossed her arms over her chest and assured him, "I think you impressed plenty of people. Don't worry."

He narrowed his eyes at her and said, "You are disrespectful. Insolent, even."

She didn't answer him at first. She just walked over to the window, staring out on the gardens, and she said quietly,

"I think that attending my grandmother's funeral, where I was expected to be disconsolate, when I have no memory of said grandmother, is the strangest thing in the world. Except, perhaps I experienced something even stranger that I can't remember. My world is entirely upside-down. You'll forgive me, I hope, if I respond to all of this by being just the slightest bit… insolent."

"Fair enough." He appeared beside her, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed over his brocade robes, and he murmured, "I have never actually craved the same witch for a prolonged period of time, and I crave you on enough levels to render me rather helpless. You'll forgive me, I hope, if I respond to to all of this by being just the slightest bit jealous."

She smirked out the window and nodded, saying nothing. Voldemort reached for her hand, which she let him take, and he said quietly,

"Your husband can have his mistress. I can have his wife."

"That makes perfect sense," Bellatrix laughed quietly, turning toward him. "I happen to know, for he and I have discussed it ad nauseam, Master, that he will never protest."

"Good for him, and good for you, and good for me, then," Voldemort said, and he wrapped his arms around Bellatrix and crushed her mouth with his.

**Author's Note: Awwww, yeah. Affairs are getting all official. Now for Bellatrix to see battle again. Mwah hahaha.**

**I am sooo glad that this story is getting tons and tons of readership, but it's not getting lots of love in terms of reviews, so if you are reading it and can spare a moment to leave some feedback, I would really appreciate it. Thank you very kindly indeed.**


	12. He's Falling in Love With You

"Well, I'm finished. I don't want to get so sloshed that I Splinch."

"One more shot, Rabastan!" cried Rodolphus, and Bellatrix giggled like mad as Rodolphus splashed firewhisky into the three small glasses on the table.

"I feel sick," she complained, but Rabastan reminded her,

"We were explicitly instructed…  _hic!_  Oh, pardon me. We were told to give you a memory of being drunk. So here we are. Drunk. Very drunk. One more shot, then. Give it here, Dolph." He took his glass and raised it and cried, "To the Dark Lord, who had far too much…  _hic!_  Dignity to do this himself!"

"To the Dark Lord!" Bellatrix laughed, her voice a blur. She knocked back the firewhisky, which made her throat sear like mad, and she pinched her eyes shut as she forced the liquor down. This was her fifth shot of alcohol, and she was just now finding out what it meant to be properly drunk. Her head was swimming and she was vaguely nauseated where she sat in the lounge in Malfoy Manor. She still had to stay here, Voldemort said, because he wanted to work with her daily with the Pensieve.

Early today, he'd shown her two memories - one of a long Death Eater meeting where he'd explained personalities and backgrounds, and another where he'd taken her on a tour of Hogsmeade through a visit he'd taken there about a decade earlier. Then Voldemort had ordered Rodolphus and Rabastan to get Bellatrix 'moderately drunk' so that she knew what the sensation felt like, so that the concept was a memory and not an abstract.

There didn't seem to be anything moderate now, though. Bellatrix gave Rabastan a tight squeeze before he stumbled out of the room, and then she was left along with Rodolphus, and as the Wizarding Wireless on the mantle played a droning sort of song, he suggested,

"Dance with me, Bella?"

She giggled and shook her head. "I'll fall down. Also, I really don't remember anything about dancing."

"I'll show you, then," Rodolphus said, seeming dull around the edges right now. "Let's make a memory of dancing together, all right? I'll hold you up. Promise."

"All right." Bellatrix grinned and let him put his hand on her back, let him wrap his fingers around hers, and she was so dizzy that as they started to sway, she leaned her head onto his chest. He was tall, and she was very short, and so she just barely reached his sternum. She stood quite close to him as they swayed, and she informed him,

"Being drunk feels like floating."

"Mmm-hmm." She felt him kiss her hair, and they were quiet for a while. It was pleasant, Bellatrix thought. She just listened to the strings and the opera singer on the Wireless; it was some very old recording of a very old ballad, but it didn't matter. She shut her eyes and swayed, and she asked in a little murmur,

"Do you dance with Stella often?"

"Not really," Rodolphus admitted. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then he said softly, "I think that maybe I'm falling out of love with Stella."

Bellatrix frowned and raised her eyes to him, shaking her head. "She's so pretty. She seems so sweet."

"She is," Rodolphus nodded. He huffed a sigh and shrugged, and his eyes seemed glazed as they danced. His throat bobbed and he said, "Ever since… well, you're a little different now, Bellatrix, and I… I admit that rather like you like this. I  _really_  like you like this. I don't mean that I didn't like you before. That's not what I mean. I'm making a mess here, I know. I… I tried to be physical with Stella two days ago, and I could only think of you. And you're my wife, so…"

"Oh." Bellatrix felt her eyes flutter as she studied Rodolphus' kind-featured face. He seemed a little desperate then as his feet stopped moving and he whispered,

"Please, can I kiss you?"

"Oh." Bellatrix felt her eyes water, felt herself sway where she stood holding onto him, and then a voice from behind her asked rather firmly,

"Are we all through becoming moderately intoxicated?"

"My Lord!" Rodolphus staggered back a step or two and blinked rapidly, and Bellatrix turned on unsteady feet to see Voldemort glaring at her, walking slowly into the lounge. He flicked his wand at the Wireless to turn the volume down a tiny bit, and he shrugged lightly.

"Was I interrupting a ball?"

"I didn't remember dancing, Master," Bellatrix drawled, and Voldemort tipped his head. He scoffed and noted,

"Oh, no. You wouldn't remember it directly. I remember dancing with you. May I dance with you now, or are you too drunk?"

"I'm not too drunk," Bellatrix said, and Voldemort immediately drew her into a tight, formal dancing stance. She stared up at him in awe, and as his gaze bored into hers, he instructed Rodolphus,

"Go ahead and get home before you hurt yourself doing so, Rodolphus."

"Yes, Master. Goodnight, Bella," Rodolphus said hesitantly, and Bellatrix just swallowed hard.

"Night, Rodolphus," she said, still staring up at Voldemort. As Rodolphus left, Voldemort started to move, to dance, and Bellatrix struggled to keep up with his actual steps. He wasn't just swaying; he was moving his feet properly, and she had no idea what she was doing. She tried to follow him, but she was clumsy from inexperience and from drink, and after a few moments, he mercifully stopped his feet and lowered his arm, his hand still pressed between her shoulders. His breath was rather quick, though, and he told her,

"He is falling in love with you. I can see it in his head; he's falling in love with you."

Bellatrix shook her head, feeling like her words were thick in her mouth as she insisted,

"He has a mistress he loves."

"He adored her until your memory being wiped changed you a little, and now he realises that he's quite fond of his beautiful, young, intelligent wife," Voldemort said sharply. His eyes were glittering oddly, and his lips were pursed, and Bellatrix found herself drawling,

"You're cross with me."

"No." Voldemort shook his head, and Bellatrix guessed,

"You're cross with him, then."

"Well, I can scarcely blame him, but he's the one married to you." Voldemort licked his bottom lip and shut his eyes as he whispered, "I should… let the husband have his wife, probably."

"No." Bellatrix clutched at the front of his robes and drew herself up against him. She slid one hand down, into his robes, and Voldemort gasped a little as she went searching for the front of his trousers. He hissed a bit when she found the lump of his cock, when she started to play there through the material, and as he tipped his head back a little, she whispered, "I don't want him, Master; I want you."

"Bella. Stop; you're drunk." Voldemort gripped her shoulders, but Bellatrix knew precisely what she wanted of him. She was bleeding today; just this morning she'd begun her monthly cycle. But she'd felt him come inside of her, and she wanted to watch it happen with her own eyes. She wanted to play with him, to see him finish, to feel his come on her hands. She whispered up at him,

"There is a spell to make things slippery, but I can't remember. I'm sorry; I can't… I can't remember."

"It's  _Lubrico._ " Voldemort seemed just a little bit breathless, and as Bellatrix fumbled with his trousers, he reached in and helped her with the buttons, shoving open his flowing outer robe and yanking out his linen shirt. He seethed through his teeth and mumbled the lubrication charm as Bellatrix's hands worked with messy, unpractised strokes then, pulling at his shaft, marveling at the shape and form of him. Velvet on stone.

He helped her, showing her how to move her fist up and down with smooth motions, how to linger around his tip, how to swirl and squeeze there, and eventually he held her fist still and started to pump his hips, as if he were fucking her hand, and he leaned down to kiss her hard.

"I wanted you… to be mine. Not his. Mine." Voldemort sounded almost mournful against her mouth, and Bellatrix shrugged as she licked at his lip and informed him again,

"I'm not going to have sex with him. I don't want him. I want you."

"You're his wife," Voldemort reminded her, bucking his hips hard against her hand. "He is your husband."

She stared right into his eyes and hissed, "You are my master, or have you forgotten?"

"Mmph." His mouth dropped open at that, and his breath stopped for a second, and Bellatrix lowered her eyes to see him coming all over her fist, all over her dark skirts. His come was creamy and erratic in how it burst out. His cock was throbbing and twitching in her hand. She was dizzy and swaying from the firewhisky. It was all so much. Too much. She needed to sit down.

She stumbled back a few steps, a complete mess with come all over her, and she sat, bowing her head as she tried not to be sick from all the liquor she'd had, and after a few moments of her own heart racing and the music still playing and both their breath panting in the air, she heard Voldemort mutter spells to clean himself up, and then he came over and cleaned up her hand and her skirts. He crouched down in front of her, having put himself to rights, and he tucked his wand away. He reached up to hold her face in his hand, and he told her,

"I feel like a complete fool, you know. Being jealous of the husband of a witch who's less than half my age. I am the Dark Lord Voldemort. I ought not feel like a fool. I very much dislike that sensation."

"I'm sorry." Bellatrix covered his hand and dragged her thumb around, and he informed her,

"The problem is… you provide me with a great many other sensations, Bella, and I… I do like those. Not just the carnal ones like the sensations you just gave me now. Other sensations. You make me feel proud and impressed. You amuse me. I like to be around you. I am going to speak with your husband and make my intentions plain. I want there to be no confusion. I am your master and his, and I will not share."

Bellatrix curled up half her mouth and one shoulder and said in a blurry tone, "He has Stella. She'll make him happy."

"Don't worry about whether he's happy," Voldemort said sharply. "You worry about whether I am happy. I am going to stay the night in the burgundy suite with you. Let's go upstairs, Bellatrix; you and I are sharing a bed tonight."

Bellatrix's eyes seared badly all of a sudden, and she just whispered, "All right."

**Author's Note: He doesn't want to play nice! Haha! Okay… now it's** _ **really**_   **time for a battle.**

**For those who like to follow along with the playlists for my stories, the short version of this story's playlist is as follows -**

**\- Forget to Remember (Megadeth)**

**\- Two Princes (Spin Doctors)**

**\- Uptown Girl (Billy Joel)**

**\- The Trapeze Swinger (Iron & Wine)**

**\- My Sister's Tiny Hands (Andrew Bird)**

**\- Rolling Sea (Eliza Carthy)**


	13. I Will Kill You Myself

Lord Voldemort had never actually awakened next to a witch before.

All of his previous dalliances had been quick and fast, jerky encounters where he'd stayed mostly clothed or had bucked into a woman from behind on some inn bed on the Continent or up against a wall at Hogwarts. This was different.

The night before, Bellatrix had quietly mumbled that she was bleeding, and he'd just shrugged, for that was perfectly natural. Besides, she'd already given him satisfaction in the lounge, and she was drunk. It felt good to have her curl up next to him, to have her breathing slowly on the pillow next to him.

She smelled the way roses smelled at sundown, the way the air smelled just before rain. She was warm and soft and small. He stroked at her curls now, lying on his side facing her in the grey light of the early morning, the window propped open as the birds began to sing outside, and he whispered,

"Bellatrix."

She blinked her eyes open slowly and smiled a little, and he found himself smiling back just a little. He leaned toward her and kissed at her forehead, and he mumbled,

"I have to go. I have a meeting with Avery at eight."

"Yes, Master," Bellatrix said dutifully, and he struggled then. It was vaguely painful, wrenching himself away from her, distancing himself from her under the sheets. For a moment, he didn't. He actually threaded his arm round her and held her for a good solid minute, just breathing her in, and he brushed his lips over her cheekbone, realising he'd stripped all the way down to his underwear for lack of pyjamas. He didn't care. He slithered closer to her and kissed her cheek and whispered,

"I'd rather stay."

She giggled gently and held his face. "Then stay."

"I can't. I have to go shave and wash and… mmph. I'd rather stay." He tightened his arm around her, burying his nose into her curls and breathing in, smelling rose and rain and shutting his eyes, feeling genuinely  _happy_  as his heart sped up just a bit. He lingered, just holding her, and finally she asked him,

"Is Avery coming here to your office, My Lord?"

"No." He snuggled his face into her hair and told her, "I have to go to his house in Brighton. I've been planning something with him and Nott; they'll both be there. Anyway. I should go. I've got to go -"

"Shave and wash." Bellatrix kissed at his jaw, at his scruff, making him shiver, and he huffed a breath, rubbing between her shoulders. He pulled away at last and slid out of the bed, unashamed of letting her see him messy and tired and wearing nothing but tight black underwear. He started reaching for his discarded trousers, socks, shirt, and robe, and as he pulled his clothes on, Bellatrix lay on her back and watched him shamelessly. He smirked at her as he buttoned up his shirt, and he asked softly,

"Enjoying the view?"

"Yes." She sounded almost hungry, and when he eyed her, she certainly looked hungry. He realised that she desperately wanted him, and that thought made him gulp heavily. She hadn't just craved him before. She desired him now, too. Only, it was better now. It was less blindly sycophantic now. She was sharper now; she was more independent. She'd made up her mind about him in a shorter time, but she was more sure of herself, more willing to be defiant whens he needed to be. He liked her far better like this, with her mind begun afresh. He found himself breathing quickly as he did up his trousers, shoving his shirt into the waist, and he told her quietly,

"I'll speak with Rodolphus. It isn't fair to him… he has no way of knowing."

"He knows." Bellatrix nodded up at him. "He knows how I feel about you. I think he was only behaving that way because he was drunk."

"I told you that I saw into his mind," Voldemort snapped. "I am a Legilimens. I entered his mind from the corridor; he's been perseverating over you for days. He couldn't get hard for Stella a few days ago. It embarrassed him, and she was angry, but he was thinking of you, and he couldn't… anyway."

"Oh." Bellatrix sat up slowly, adjusting the neckline of her loose-fitting black nightgown. "Poor thing. He doesn't know that I'd never sleep with him. Ever."

Voldemort quirked up his mouth and reminded her, "You're his wife. According to wizarding law, if he wants it, you have to give it to him."

Bellatrix's eyes went wide with horror. "He wouldn't do that."

"No. He wouldn't," Voldemort said firmly, "at least in part because i mean to tell him that if he forces you, I'll kill him. And I mean to inform him that your attentions belong to me in every sense, including the physical. He won't argue with me on it; he's a good soldier. He can't help it if he loves you, but he can make good choices."

Bellatrix sighed deeply and asked, "When will you speak with him?"

"This afternoon, after my meeting with Nott and Avery," Voldemort nodded. "I'll send for him. Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it."

She glanced out the window, listening to the birds for a moment, and then she said quietly, "Blackbirds and wrens. I know their calls. Strange, the knowledge I retained. I didn't know Andromeda's face when I saw her, but I know the call of a wren."

Voldemort dragged his teeth over his lip and assured her,

"Your mind is full of things. You're hardly empty-headed."

She turned toward him and said,

"You were born on the thirty-first of December, nineteen twenty-six. You went to school with my parents. You were once known as Tom Riddle, but then you went to the Continent to learn all sorts of awful things. You came back here and people began to fear and follow Lord Voldemort. As a teenager, I became enamoured with the idea of you, and you made me your youngest Death Eater. You marked me as yours; I served you with my wand and my soul. I know all of this, but I don't remember any of it. It's as if I learnt it in school. But I don't remember any of that, either."

Voldemort blinked and shrugged. "I wish I could give your memories back. I'm sorry."

"Perhaps it's better this way," Bellatrix suggested. "Am I awful like this?"

"No." Voldemort clasped up his outer robe and shook his head vehemently. "No. You are not. I have to go."

* * *

_One of the only known domesticated phoenixes, Sparky is the mascot of the Moutohora Macaws Quidditch team. There was some controversy in 1962 when Sparky temporarily flew over the Bay of Plenty and did not seem to want to return. Some advocated that Sparky should be -_

Bellatrix set down her copy of  _Fascinating Facts of Captivating Quidditch History_  as a sudden searing feeling came over her left forearm. She scowled, for she'd been told that this feeling signaled that she'd been called by Lord Voldemort. She hadn't had much experience Apparating since her memory loss, though she'd practised a few times on the lawn outside with Voldemort. He'd told her that if her Dark Mark burned, he needed her, and she was to shut her eyes and think of him, and that she would Apparate to him at once.

Bellatrix pulled her wand out and stood in the library of Malfoy Manor, adjusting her wispy black sundress and wishing she had put some shoes on. But she didn't have time to go upstairs now and fetch shoes; she'd have to go barefoot. She closed her eyes and thought hard about Voldemort, whipping her body hard to the side and thinking very intently about going to him.

When she came to, she was thrown roughly to the ground. She cried out in pain as her body was tossed against a wall, and she scrambled quickly to get to her feet. Her eyes went wide as she realised she was inside a spacious home, and that there was a small skirmish happening around her.

"Rodolphus!" she exclaimed, for he was lying still and unmoving on the ground. Was he Stunned or dead? She couldn't tell. Bellatrix saw Rabastan duelling a grizzled-looking, short wizard, and there was a young, thin witch throwing hexes at Mr Avery, who was blocking them expertly in the long, sunny corridor beyond Rabastan. Bellatrix could see out in the lawn out front that Voldemort was fighting off at least three or four people at once, so she went dashing out through the kitchen in which she'd landed, ignoring Rodolphus and hoping he was alive. She ran barefoot through the lounge, out past Avery's duel in the corridor. She aimed her wand at the back of Avery's opponent and exclaimed,

" _Stupefy!_ "

She ran out the open front door and saw Voldemort whip his wand toward a white-haired wizard and scream,

" _Avada Kedavra!_ "

The wizard Disapparated just in time, and when he reappeared in another spot, the Killing Curse hit a tree and caused it to catch fire. Bellatrix aimed her wand at the wizard, but he turned on her, and she ducked and shrieked,

" _Protego Maxima!"_

" _Avada Kedavra!_ " Voldemort snarled again, and this time, the green light of his Killing Curse smacked straight into the chest of a ginger-haired young man who was standing opposite him. The wizard crumpled, and a witch went dashing over to the fallen wizard, shrieking in agony.

"Take his body and go, Marbella!" cried the white-haired wizard, whom Bellatrix suddenly realised was Albus Dumbledore. She aimed her wand at him and let her shield down, and she exclaimed,

" _Incendio!_ "

He blocked her Fire-Making spell with a quick flick of his wand, looking almost annoyed, and then he Disapparated again, reappearing up the hill, and he called,

"Tom! Enough! No more death. Give this madness up now."

"Be gone or die, old man!" Voldemort growled. " _Avada Ke-_ "

" _Silencio._ " Dumbledore was calm, and Voldemort's curse died on his lips. He narrowed his eyes at his enemy, whipping his wand and sending a flare of angry sparks at the old man that dissolved against a shield that Dumbledore had sent up. Bellatrix carefully aimed her wand at Dumbledore and whispered,

" _Crucio._ "

Suddenly Dumbledore crumpled to his knees, and his body was wrapped in a web of red light. Bellatrix was surprised by the feel of the curse, by the way it dragged energy out of her. Dumbledore was silent, though his face twisted in pain, and Voldemort cried out,

"Good girl, Bella! Hold it!"

He'd broken free of his Silencing Charm, then. He aimed his own wand at Dumbledore, and she knew he was about to kill his foe, but just as the Killing Curse was about to form on Voldemort's lips, Dumbledore somehow Disapparated out of the middle of being tortured. Bellatrix fell to her own knees, exhausted by the effort of casting the Cruciatus Curse. She panted, staring at the spot where Dumbledore had been, and Voldemort hissed in frustration.

"Bloody fucking coward!" he exclaimed. "Come on; let's go help the others."

He came over to her and pulled her up by her elbow, and as he pulled her toward Avery's house, he mumbled,

"That was well done. Good girl. You're a good girl."

She smiled a little, knowing that he was proud of her. Inside the house, they found Avery standing over the unmoving form of the wizard Bellatrix had Stunned, and Voldemort snapped,

"Kill him and Vanish him. That's Mills; get rid of him immediately."

"Yes, Master," Avery said, and Voldemort stepped into the lounge. He found Rabastan and Rodolphus alone in there, and Rabastan said simply,

"Moody Stunned Rodolphus, Master. I was duelling him, and then he fled when the ones outside did."

"Cowards, the lot of them," Voldemort growled. He looked over his shoulder. "Avery, I'm afraid you'll need to pack your things. Have you got Expanded luggage?"

"Yes, Master," Avery called back. "I'll burn the place to the ground before I leave."

"Good man," Voldemort said simply. Bellatrix realised then just how loyal the Death Eaters were. This was undoubtedly an ancestral home, but Avery was willing to leave it, to destroy it, because his meeting with Voldemort had been discovered and his home had been compromised.

"Where's Mr Nott?" Bellatrix asked, for she'd thought he was meant to have been at this meeting. Voldemort huffed a sigh.

"Avery, go check on him. He took a nasty Jelly-Brain Hex early on; he's going to need that Shacklebolt Healer. No St Mungo's, obviously. Well done, the three of you, coming as reinforcements. Let's get out of here. Avery, get your things packed up and get this place burning. Get Nott to the Shacklebolts'."

"Yes, Master," Avery said, walking into the lounge. "Mills is gone."

Voldemort nodded crisply. "Right. Let's go, before anyone else shows up."

* * *

"Rodolphus. Come in and sit." Voldemort gestured to the chair opposite his desk in his office. Rodolphus smiled a little and came in, and Voldemort said crisply, "That was a well-fought skirmish earlier. A shame about Avery's house, but… well, their loss. Mills, Prewett. Dumbledore took a good bout of a Cruciatus from Bella."

Rodolphus' eyes went wide. "She cast a Cruciatus Curse?"

"She did indeed." Voldemort folded his hands on the desk. "Enough about the battle. I didn't call you here about the battle."

Rodolphus' boy-like features looked surprised. "Is something wrong, Master?"

Voldemort cleared this throat and said carefully,

"You have Stella Nott. She needs to be enough for you."

Rodolphus suddenly seemed to understand. He glanced at the bookshelf beside him, and he admitted with caution in his tone,

"I… was not expecting to feel this way about her. I never felt this way about her before."

"That is of no consequence to me," Voldemort said stiffly. "Your feelings are of no consequence to me. If you attempt to coerce her into relations…"

"I would never," Rodolphus insisted, but Voldemort met the boy's eyes and finished,

"I will kill you myself."

Rodolphus blinked and nodded. He visibly gulped and said,

"I was a fool to ask to kiss her. I know she doesn't want it. I know she doesn't want me. I am very well aware of what -  _who_  - Bellatrix wants. And I will honour that, Master. I swear it. I will be her husband, and I will be her friend, and I will be your servant. No more. No less. I promise you both that."

"Good man." Voldemort coughed quietly and turned his chair toward the window. "You may go."

He heard the rustle of Rodolphus' robes as he stood, and then he sensed hesitation. Rodolphus said quietly,

"Master, may I say something?"

"If you must," Voldemort clipped, and Rodolphus seemed to be measuring his words as though his life depended on it. It did, in a way.

"My Lord, I consider myself remarkably lucky to be Bellatrix's husband, but if I never laid a finger upon her again, I would know very well why, and I would understand entirely. And I hope you know that I want nothing more than her happiness, and my entire life is devoted to serving you. I know well where I stand."

Voldemort just stared out on the lawns, the way Bellatrix so often did, and he said again,

"That was a well-fought skirmish, Rodolphus. I do hope you were not injured when you were Stunned."

"I'm perfectly fine, Master," Rodolphus said. "Good day."

"Good day," Voldemort said, and he listened to Rodolphus' footsteps, then to the office door open and shut.

**Author's Note: Mwah hahaha. Take that, Dumbledore. And now that everyone's clear on where they stand, a few doors are opened, no? What's next for the Pensieve? Things could get interesting in there. :}**


	14. What Blithering Idiots We Were

Bellatrix pushed her empty bowl of white bean soup away from her, feeling much too full, and she rose from where she'd been eating dinner alone. She wondered whether Rodolphus was eating dinner with Stella right now, whether Rabastan was eating with them. She walked slowly out of the dining room and made her way down the corridor, past the portraits on the walls, and eventually, she passed Abraxas Malfoy.

"Hullo, Mr Malfoy," she said quietly. He just nodded and smiled rather awkwardly. The Malfoys kept to themselves; the entire upper level of the manor was theirs. They were terrified of Voldemort, Bellatrix knew, and would never question him using their home as a headquarters. They were honoured by his presence here. But Bellatrix was so closely associated with Voldemort that she reckoned she scared them a little, too. She hardly ever saw Mrs Malfoy, who was so empty-skulled that it didn't matter, anyway.

When Bellatrix opened the door to the burgundy suite, she paused, for Lord Voldemort was sitting on the sofa, the Pensieve in front of him, waiting for her. She shut the door softly behind her and stepped inside, and she said in a curt but playful sort of voice,

"I wish I'd known you were here, My Lord; I would have invited you to dinner."

"I ate in my office," he said simply, and she nodded. She sat opposite him, sinking into the armchair, and adjusted her black lace skirt around her boots as she asked,

"What do you wish to show me tonight?"

He hesitated, dragging the pad of his finger along the rim of the Pensieve, and then he said,

"I'm going to show you a memory from… long before your time. A memory from nineteen forty-three. The autumn of my seventh year at Hogwarts. I was Tom Riddle then. I was Head Boy."

Bellatrix frowned a little, shaking her head, and she cleared her throat. "May I ask why you wish for me to see something from that time? Not that I'm not interested. I am."

Voldemort licked at his bottom lip a little, and he raised his eyes to her. "Your father and I… Abraxas Malfoy, Yaxley, Avery, Mulciber, Nott. Rudy Lestrange, before he died. None of us were anything like you when we were teenagers. I want you to see what blithering idiots we were."

Bellatrix grinned. "Why?"

"So you realise what a bloody fantastic soldier you are, with or without your memories," Voldemort said seriously, and Bellatrix's smile faded a little. Voldemort dragged his fingers through his hair, which had little threads of grey in it, and he said solemnly, "I knew what I wanted, at least, but the rest of them were focused on girls and Quidditch and failing exams. We were a year younger than you are now. And here you are, casting a Cruciatus Curse on Albus Dumbledore without a second thought."

"I was trying to create a situation where you could execute him," Bellatrix said, almost defensively, and Voldemort raised his eyebrows.

"You don't have to impress me any more than you've already done. Let's go into the Pensieve. I've already put a carefully extracted memory inside." He reached for her hand and bent down, and Bellatrix followed him. They touched their faces to the gaseous, watery silver in the basin, and then Bellatrix felt herself falling.

When she landed, Voldemort caught her and helped her stand, and she looked around the washed-out scene surrounding her. It was a heavy sort of space, a room with dark-coloured furniture and walls draped with tapestries. There was an entire wall of dark glass, and suddenly Bellatrix realised where she was. She nodded.

"This is the Slytherin Common Room."

"It's been described to you, but you don't remember it?" Voldemort guessed. Bellatrix narrowed her eyes.

"I walked through her  _very_  quickly, just once, in a memory with Rodolphus. I imagine I spent a good deal of time in here in reality."

"That's me. That boy just there." Voldemort gestured to a remarkably handsome, black-haired young man sitting in a chair, wearing a school uniform. He was studying his fingernails, looking very bored, and he had a Head Boy badge on his black robe. His hair had been combed just so with pomade in it, and he looked neat and tidy. His face was angular and smooth, far more youthful than Voldemort appeared now, but it was obviously the same man. Bellatrix dashed up to him, crouching before him, knowing he could neither see nor hear her.

Tom Riddle, the boy in the chair, sighed and dragged his fingernails over the arm of the suede chair, and he seemed impatient, like he was waiting for someone. Bellatrix stared into his dark eyes, studied his full lips, and from behind her, she heard Voldemort admit almost nervously,

"I was a lot better looking twenty-seven years ago."

"Just younger. You're perfectly fine now." She smiled over her shoulder at him and stood slowly, for a crowd of Slytherin boys were coming into the common room. One Bellatrix recognised at once - the icy blond boy who would grow to be Abraxas Malfoy. Beside him was a gangly, tall young man who strongly resembled Rodolphus, followed by a stout, shorter boy and a pair who were quietly discussing something.

"Who are they?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort huffed a breath as he said,

"That one that looks like your husband? That's your father-in-law. Rudy Lestrange. He died a few months before your wedding; he and his wife contracted a tropical plague on holiday in Africa."

"That's too bad." Bellatrix stood beside Rudy Lestrange, seeing much of Rodolphus in him. She smirked a little as she studied the faces of the two chatting boys, and she nodded.

"Nott and Avery."

"Yes." Voldemort gave a crisp nod, and then he gestured to the shorter boy. "That's your father."

"Oh." Bellatrix walked slowly towards him, and then she nodded. "Narcissa resembles him more; I look like our mum, I think."

"Quite so," Voldemort said. The boys all settled into chairs and onto sofas, and Abraxas Malfoy said,

"Sorry for the delay, Tom. If we're to beat Gryffindor on Saturday, we have to be prepared. I kept Quidditch practise long."

"It's fine," Tom Riddle said, a bit sharply. He'd been kept waiting, Bellatrix could tell, and he did not like to wait. Cygnus Black piped up,

"It'll be my first match playing Seeker, since Mulciber's still got that nasty stomach illness."

"Mulciber will be fine by Saturday, Cygnus; you were just filling in for practise," Abraxas said, rolling his eyes. Bellatrix laughed a little, and Voldemort reminded her,

"He was younger, you know."

"Yes." Bellatrix found it rather amusing that her father had been such a hanger-on, that he'd been picked on by the boys that would grow to become Voldemort's Death Eaters.

"I got a letter from my father," Avery said proudly. "I'm to have a position in the Floo Network Authority beginning in July."

"That's fine news, Avery!" Cygnus exclaimed. "Congratulations."

"You'll write to me often," Tom said, and it wasn't a question. "If you hear anything interesting, see anything. You'll send me reports, just like anyone else leaving school."

"Of course, Tom," Avery nodded, looking nervous. Then he glanced at Nott, who asked carefully,

"D'you not want a position at the Ministry for yourself, Tom?"

"No." Tom shook his head, dragging his fingernails over the arm of the chair again. "No. The Ministry's a dead end for me; I'll get lost in the bureaucracy. I don't want to be Minister, anyway; I intend on being much more than that."

"By working at Borgin at Burkes?" asked Lestrange in a low voice, and Tom narrowed his eyes as a heavy silence came over the space. The other boys seemed very, very nervous until Tom tipped his head and told Rudy Lestrange,

"I mean to use the job at Borgin and Burkes to forge connections with wealthy, powerful people. To obtain important and useful objects. And when the time is right, I will leave on a journey to acquire the skills and knowledge necessary to ascend properly. Or perhaps I should do as you're doing, Rudy, and work as a clerk for the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee."

Lestrange shook his head, lowered his eyes, and murmured,

"I was rude. I apologise."

"Apology accepted," Tom said lightly. "I'm starved. Let's all go eat some dinner, shall we?"

He stood then, and the others waited to rise until he'd done so. He led the pack of boys out of the common room, and once they'd gone, the memory began to dissolve around Bellatrix like smoke. She pulled herself backward and up, and soon she was drawing her head up from the Pensieve and staring at Voldemort across the little table. His face was very serious, as though he were waiting for her reaction. Bellatrix chomped on her lip and said,

"You were very impressive, even then. Small wonder you've spent your life with followers; you're obviously a born leader."

He just blinked, and Bellatrix continued a little anxiously,

"My father was rather pathetic, I must say. And Rudy Lestrange was insolent."

"Rather like you," Voldemort teased, and Bellatrix couldn't help smiling a bit. She stood and walked over to him, standing between his knees, and she wrapped her arms around his neck as she said quietly,

"You look past my insolence a little more readily than the others', though, don't you? Why is that?"

"Because I want into your knickers," Voldemort deadpanned, and Bellatrix giggled like mad. On instinct, she hiked her skirt up a bit and put a leg on either side of him, sinking down until she was straddling him where he sat on the sofa. She was still bleeding, though it was all very well contained with spells. She kept her arms around Voldemort's neck as he settled back against the sofa, his lips parting a little, and he asked her in a whisper,

"I'll bet you wish I looked like that handsome boy your age, hm?"

"No." Bellatrix shook her head. "I was very impressed by him, but I like you like this. Master."

Voldemort reached up to squeeze at her breast a little, and Bellatrix moaned quietly. She touched her forehead to his, and he tipped his head until his lips brushed hers. Bellatrix mumbled darkly,

"Those boys were so scared of you, Master. Now they're grown men, and they're still so frightened."

"And you? Are you frightened of me?" he demanded, his hands sliding down over her waist and squeezing at her backside. He dragged her against his erection, and Bellatrix gasped a little. She shrugged helplessly.

" _Frightened_  is the wrong word," she insisted. "I am in awe of you. I am terribly attracted to you. I promise I'll serve you. But I'm probably not as terrified as you mean for me to be."

"I like you brave," he told her, squeezing hard at her hips. She tipped her head back until he said in a steely, commanding sort of voice, "Kiss me, Bellatrix."

"Yes, Master." She did as he said, crashing her mouth down against his and grinding her hips against the hard lump in his trousers. She slid her tongue between his teeth, and his fingers cinched tightly against her thighs.

Suddenly Bellatrix heard the door to the suite open and shut behind her, and she gasped as she wrenched her face away from Voldemort's.

"Oh. Oh, I'm… I beg your pardon, My Lord," Bellatrix heard Rodolphus say as she scrambled off of Voldemort's lap. She stumbled as she tried to stand, and Voldemort reached out a hand to help steady her. He cleared his throat angrily and snarled at Rodolphus,

"Do you not know how to knock on a door, Rodolphus?"

Rodolphus' boyish face, which so resembled the father's Bellatrix had just seen in the memory, was as red as a strawberry as he stared at his shoes. He looked like he was going to cry as he set down a leather suitcase and mumbled,

"I'm so sorry. I… erm… Bella, I thought you might want some different clothes since the weather's getting so much warmer. I packed up some… erm…"

"Different clothes," Bellatrix huffed, and Rodolphus nodded silently. He shut his eyes and whispered helplessly,

"I'm so sorry."

"If there's nothing else, you are dismissed," Voldemort said tightly from where he sat on the sofa, very obviously arranged to conceal his erection. Rodolphus nodded quickly, flicking his eyes up apologetically to Bellatrix, and he mumbled,

"Send me an owl if there's anything else you need, and I'll… I'll have Rabastan bring it over. I'm so sorry. Goodnight."

Rodolphus whirled on his foot and hurried out of the suite, closing the door loudly behind him, and Bellatrix touched shaking fingers to her forehead as she took a long breath. She picked up the leather suitcase from the ground and moved silently toward the bedroom with it.

"Bella," said Voldemort's voice from behind her, and she stared at him over her shoulder. He licked at his bottom lip and shrugged lightly.

"I think I'll stay here tonight."

She curled up half her mouth and nodded. "Of course, Master."

**Author's Note: Damn you, Rodolphus! But you gotta feel kind of bad for him, too, right? Thank you so very much to everyone reading, and a huge shout-out to those who have reviewed. The feedback means so much. :)**


	15. Tangled Up Like Vine

He woke up holding her.

The window was opened a little, and the thud of the pounding rain in the middle of the night woke Voldemort. He cracked his eyes open and listened in the darkness to the sound of the rain lashing the manor in sheets. Then he realised he was cradling Bellatrix, that they were tangled up like vine, that his arms were holding her near as if she were falling.

His breath caught a little, and he tried not to move for fear of waking her, losing her. Her face was burrowed against his chest, and she breathed slowly in sleep. He brushed his lips along her frizzy braided hair, and her fingers flinched a bit on his arm. Had he woken her? He tried not to move anymore, but he knew his heart and breath had sped up.

"Mmm," he heard her hum, and then he felt her lips in the hollow at the base of his neck. Suddenly he just shut his eyes and breathed in, listening to the rain and feeling the wholeness of her, adoring the sensations of her, wanting her badly. He wasn't even hard, and she was bleeding. It wasn't lust; it was a different sort of desire that he scarcely recognised. He just wanted to hold her, so he did.

Her thin little fingers worked their way up to his scruffy jaw, and she stroked there a little, and he wondered why the blazes he'd never taken advantage of how badly she'd craved him. For years, she'd been staring at him like he was a god. Why had it taken her getting her memory wiped for him to acknowledge and accommodate what she wanted?

She was different now, he thought. She wasn't some child, eyes blazing with infatuation. She was more like a woman now, her mind thinking all on its own out of necessity. She tipped her head against his chest as he held her now, and she whispered,

"That's quite some rain. It may flood, hm?"

"Perhaps a little," Voldemort acknowledged, his voice a low growl from sleep. "I like the rain."

"So do I. At least… I like it now. I don't know if I liked it before," Bellatrix murmured. "I don't know what I liked before at all. I wonder what my favourite food was. My favourite colour."

"I reckon they were same," Voldemort said, "I don't know; perhaps they weren't. What are your favourite food and colour now?"

"Cherry cake. Black." Bellatrix stroked at Voldemort's jaw again, and he turned up half his mouth as he told her,

"I wouldn't expect you to much care for pink, so…"

She laughed against his chest, and he sighed as he admitted,

"I never saw you eat cherry cake before. Dobby makes a good version, so you've probably developed a taste for it here. You always liked gruyere tarts when they were served at events. I always saw you eat them and nothing else if they were served."

"Mmm. Now I'm hungry." Bellatrix pushed herself up a little, smirking down at Voldemort, and he reached to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She asked him, "What about you? Favourite food? Colour?"

"Black, like you," he said, "although I like a good emerald green; it's the lingering Slytherin in me. As for food… a good quality steak cooked medium rare, served with mushrooms."

"Can we have Dobby bring some food? My stomach's rumbling now," Bellatrix smiled, and Voldemort laughed a little. He glanced at the clock and said,

"It's half past two. We'll have breakfast in a few hours."

Bellatrix's face went a little serious, and she covered his hand on her face as she asked, "We'll have breakfast, you and I?"

"Yes." He encouraged her to lie back down, and as she snuggled back against him, a strange thought hit him. He wanted to eat meals with her. He wanted to spend nights with her. He wanted to fight battles alongside her, to read books in quiet libraries with her. He was…

No. That was not possible. And, anyway, she was married and he was her master. He blinked a few times, angry at the burn behind his eyelids when he shut them.

"Goodnight," he whispered quietly, and she pressed her palm flat against his bare chest, kissed the skin there, and replied softly,

"Goodnight, Master."

* * *

"Avery. Do come in. I'm glad your wife was out of the house when everything happened; I hope you got all of your belongings out all right."

"Yes, My Lord," Avery nodded, sitting opposite Voldemort. "We've arranged to move into Tarra's family's second home in London for the time being."

"She's a Selwyn?" Voldemort asked, trying to keep track of everyone, and Avery nodded curtly.

"It's a three-bedroom flat, sir, but with our only son a sixth-year at Hogwarts, we don't need much. I've secured it very well with protective enchantments. Tarra entirely understands why the house had to be destroyed. I checked on Nott before coming here. He's all healed up, Master."

"Good." Voldemort drummed his fingers on his desk and pulled out a velvet bag from his desk drawer. He slid it across the desk, the Galleons inside clinking against each other, and he said to Avery, "For all the trouble."

Avery's eyes went wide. "I couldn't possibly -"

"Your loyalty is appreciated and will be duly rewarded," Voldemort clipped. "You've been a friend since our Slytherin days, Avery. I expect you'll be a friend until we're old men. And you fight well. You'll serve me well in the regime I develop. Take the money and use it toward a new, permanent residence."

"Thank you." Avery took the velvet bag and nodded, and as he tucked it away, he asked, "Have you seen the  _Daily Prophet,_  My Lord?"

Voldemort picked up the copy that had come for him by owl and read the headline out loud.

" _AURORS RAID DARK WIZARD'S HOME - TWO MURDERED._  Yes, I read the article. It's inflammatory; they made certain to interview Dumbledore. He stated that Bellatrix Lestrange cast a Cruciatus Curse upon him, that he witnessed me kill Hadrian Prewett, that Mills was missing. They referred to you repeatedly as a 'Known Dark Wizard.' I realise you are a fugitive now, Avery, and for that reason, you'll be on a monthly stipend, deposited into your Gringotts account, for living expenses. We'll need you full time as a Death Eater."

Avery smiled a bit and nodded. "Quite so. Thank you, Master. I devote myself fully to you and your cause."

"Thank your wife's uncle for his generous donation a few months ago; it's allowing us to put Death Eaters on full-time stipends," Voldemort nodded. There was a knock on his office door then, and he frowned, using Legilimency to reach out and sense who it was. As soon as he realised it was Rodolphus Lestrange on the other side of the door, he cleared his throat and said to Avery,

"If there's nothing else, you are dismissed."

"Thank you, Master." Avery rose quickly and bowed, taking his velvet bag of Galleons with him. As he left, Voldemort called, "Send Rodolphus in, will you?"

Once Avery had gone and Rodolphus Lestrange came into the office, Voldemort just folded his hands on his desk. He did not gesture for Rodolphus to sit, so the boy stood. He waited for Rodolphus to speak, but of course no one was permitted to speak to Voldemort without permission. Finally, Voldemort said,

"If this concerns last night, I fail to see how further discussion is necessary."

"It's actually, erm… I…" Rodolphus blinked a few times and opened the leather briefcase he had with him. His eyes were a bit misty then as he pulled out a black leather pouch and held it out to Voldemort, who took it and asked,

"What is this?"

"It's for Bella," Rodolphus said softly. "It's… the weather's getting warmer, and I thought she might be spending some time outside. It's a few personal items like Long Lasting Sun Cream. She so easily gets a sunburn. I forgot to pack the warm weather toiletries for her in the suitcase. If you would be so kind as to give them to her for me, Master, I would be grateful."

"Oh." Voldemort stared at the leather pouch, feeling profoundly awkward all of a sudden. He cleared his throat a bit and said, "Sit."

Rodolphus sat. Voldemort licked his lip and asked,

"How is Stella Nott?"

Rodolphus shook his head and looked away at the bookshelves on the wall, and he said in a low voice,

"She is going to marry, My Lord. Maximus Malfoy's engagement fell through, and he's a good match for her. He's a year younger, but they get on well, so she's going to marry him over the summer."

Voldemort huffed a breath. Maximus Malfoy was Abraxas' rather distant relative, the son of his cousin, a slightly less elite Malfoy who wouldn't demand a wealthy bride. Pretty Stella Nott, at only nineteen, was a perfect match for the eighteen-year-old Pureblood Maximus Malfoy. Of course. Voldemort gulped and said very honestly to Rodolphus,

"I hope you find happiness very soon."

"I am aware that my wife does not desire me, My Lord," Rodolphus said, his voice a little sharp, but Voldemort ignored the boy's tone. Rodolphus sighed and shrugged. "All I hope is that Bella and I can be good friends."

"You will be," Voldemort confirmed. "In the meantime, she will begrudge you nothing, in the same way you begrudge her nothing."

"Quite so, sir." Rodolphus nodded and knitted his hands in his lap. He finally turned his eyes to Voldemort and asked nervously, "You'll give her her sun cream and everything, My Lord?"

"I will." Voldemort nodded and suggested, "You look tired and hungry, Rodolphus. Go get some lunch and some rest, hm?"

 **Author's Note: Oh, Rodolphus. You poor sod. And in the meantime, it sounds like Dumbledore's out to get Voldemort** _ **and**_   **Bellatrix… and like Voldemort is getting suspiciously close to falling in love. Eek!**

**Thank you SO MUCH for reading. Please do leave a review and let me know what you think.**


	16. None Of It Matters

Bellatrix walked into the dining room, for she'd been summoned by a message through Dobby, alerted that her presence was needed for an emergency meeting. She had dressed quickly in a knee-length sleeveless black dress with a wispy black belted robe over the top, and she'd yanked her curls up above her head in a bun, not bothering to apply any makeup. There didn't seem to be time.

When Bellatrix came into the dining room, she was surprised to see Lord Voldemort at the head of the table, Rodolphus and Rabastan on one side of the table beside him, and her parents on the other side of the table. Bellatrix paused, for this felt like some sort of awful intervention, and she moved slowly as she entered the room. Rodolphus and Rabastan stood, and everyone's faces were very serious.

"Come and sit, Bella," Voldemort said. "We have much to discuss."

"Hello, Mum. Daddy," Bellatrix nodded. Her parents looked like they'd been upset for some time, and they both glanced from Bellatrix to Voldemort. Druella seemed very anxious in particular as Bellatrix sat beside her. Bellatrix frowned, and when she found Rodolphus' eyes, he looked very sad.

"Your parents received a detailed letter from your sister Narcissa," Voldemort said tightly. "They made a mistake; instead of immediately coming to me after receiving the letter, they went to Rodolphus. But your husband is very loyal, and he brought your parents here. I have already explained reality in due course. Here is the letter, Bellatrix."

He flicked his wand and sent three pieces of parchment fluttering down the table toward Bellatrix. She caught them and felt her heart start to race as she began to read Narcissa's letter out loud.

" _Dear Mum and Daddy,_

_This morning, Professor Slughorn told me that Professor Dumbledore wanted to see me privately in the Headmaster's Office. I went there, and what happened frightened me to my core._

_First of all, you should know that Andromeda has been dating a Mudblood, Ted Tonks, for some time now. She swore me to secrecy about it, but Dumbledore opened his meeting with me by offering me sweets and congratulating me on my sister's engagement. I was very confused until he proudly declared that Andromeda and Ted Tonks intend on marrying over the summer, since they'll both be seventeen by June. I could tell that he was measuring my reaction. I tried to stay calm, but I began to cry. He asked why I was crying, and I confessed that Ted Tonks is not the sort of boy our family believes to be an acceptable husband for Andromeda, and that she was promised to Alesso Mulciber. Dumbledore said that our family has very skewed views on many things, including so-called 'blood status.' Then he asked me about my 'other sister.'_

_He began to explain that there had been a skirmish involving Aurors, Lord Voldemort, and others at the house of Mr Avery, and he claimed that Bellatrix attacked him with a Cruciatus Curse. I said I didn't believe him, that Bella would never do anything like that. He was quiet for a while, and then he asked me if Bellatrix had been behaving strangely lately. I asked him what on Earth he meant. He asked whether she'd been getting nicknames wrong, whether it seemed like she'd been remembering things oddly. I said carefully that Bellatrix had suffered a recent injury. Dumbledore said it was more than that._

_He claimed that an Auror called Pinky Tarlington had been murdered by Lord Voldemort, but that before her death, she had, on the orders of the Ministry, Obliviated Bellatrix of all her lifetime experiences._ "

Bellatrix stopped then, raising her eyes to Voldemort in fear. He stayed calm, but she could see rage in his gaze. Bellatrix looked to Rabastan and Rodolphus, who stared at the table, and then at her parents to see that her mother was crying quietly. Bellatrix took a shaking breath and asked quietly,

"May I have some wine, please?"

Voldemort rose slowly and walked over to a drinks table in the corner of the dining room, and the others seemed surprised to watch him pour from a decanter of red wine into a glass on the table. He brought the goblet over and set it before Bellatrix, who nodded her thanks and kept reading the letter aloud as Voldemort went to sit back down.

" _I insisted that Dumbledore was lying, that he was making things up. But he showed me letters that he'd exchanged with Pinky Tarlington confirming plans to immediately target Bellatrix for Stunning and Obliviation at the next opportunity. Dumbledore asked me again if Bellatrix had been 'off' recently, and of course she has been, most notably at Gran's funeral._

_Mum and Daddy, I know you must be in shock. I know I am. Between Andromeda marrying a Mudblood this summer and Bellatrix apparently pretending to remember things she really doesn't, I don't know what to think. I feel lost. I have not told Lucius any of this, and I promise not to, but I am frightened. I thought I needed to let you know immediately._

_All my love,_

_Cissy._ "

Bellatrix set the letter down and picked up her goblet of wine, sipping very deeply from it. She shut her eyes and just sat in silence, and finally Cygnus Black said to her in a gentle tone,

"Darling, if there is anything… anything we can do…"

"I've told them," Voldemort said tightly, and Bellatrix raised her eyes to him. "I've told them that you didn't even know who Andromeda was, that you only knew Narcissa as a baby. I've told them that you didn't know their names. I've explained the depth of your memory loss. It is best now that they understand the truth."

Bellatrix turned to her parents and shrugged. "I'm very sorry."

"No, dear. We are the sorry ones." Druella threw her arms around Bellatrix and squeezed tightly. She pulled back, tears dribbling from her dark eyes, and she asked helplessly, "You don't remember things like… like drinking tea with your Gran out on her country house lawn, then? You really don't remember?"

"No. I'm sorry." Bellatrix shook her head, and Rodolphus insisted from across the table,

"She's doing her best."

"We know she is, Dolph," Cygnus assured him, but Druella seemed more upset than ever as she asked,

"Do you know what our home is like in London? Your childhood bedroom?"

"She may visit, to regain a sense of it," Voldemort said, and Druella choked out a desperate little sound as she shook her head.

"You don't remember. You don't remember Pooky."

"What's Pooky?" Bellatrix asked curiously, and Druella sobbed into her hands as Rabastan said gently,

"Your House-Elf."

"Oh." Bellatrix gave Voldemort a serious look, then turned to her father. "I wish I had memories of my childhood, but I don't. I'm sorry for that. I hope you know that I… I care deeply for you and Mum. I do."

"Oh, Bella." Druella tossed her hands round her daughter again, and Bellatrix rubbed at her mother's shoulder as Cygnus cautiously asked Rodolphus,

"Did she know you? After the… after she was Obliviated?"

"She knew hardly anyone, but she retained all her knowledge of magic," Voldemort said, almost sternly. "Dumbledore was not lying when he said she'd cast a Cruciatus Curse on him. She did."

Cygnus' cheekbones went a little pink, and he nodded. He turned his face to Bellatrix, his eyes shimmering with tears, and he said sadly,

"I'm so sorry, sweet girl."

"So am I." Bellatrix nodded, releasing Druella back into her father's arms. She swigged from her wine and set the empty goblet down, and she asked Voldemort, "What are you going to do about this, Master?"

"Do about it?" He raised his eyebrows and Vanished Narcissa's letter from the table. "There is nothing to be done. Dumbledore is trying to sow chaos, to create a weakness here. Little does he know that you're stronger than ever. Little does he know that Andromeda will simply be burned off the Black family tapestry when she marries a Mudblood. We are all stronger than this, are we not?"

"Yes, Master," Bellatrix said, nodding, and Rodolphus and Rabastan joined her in agreement. Druella sobbed against her husband's shoulder, and Voldemort snapped,

"Enough histrionics, Druella. You have one daughter who's a blood traitor and another who's a competent soldier despite having her memory wiped. Assure me that you are stronger than this."

"I… I will try to be, sir." Druella sat up straighter, wiping at her tears. "I will try. If Andromeda chooses that Mudblood, then she is dead to us. And if Bellatrix does not remember her upbringing, then we shall make new memories with her. We are your loyal servants."

"Good." Voldemort nodded and said to Cygnus, "Why don't you take Druella home? Get her some Draught of Peace?"

"Yes, Master." Cygnus stood slowly, holding Druella, and Bellatrix rose, embracing each of them. She stroked at her mother's bobbed hair and murmured,

"We'll make new memories, Mum. Like you said."

"Goodbye, Bella." Druella nodded, kissing at Bellatrix's cheek, and she let Cygnus lead her out of the dining room. Rabastan left with them, muttering reassurances in a kind voice to help comfort Druella. Once they'd gone, Voldemort glanced between Rodolphus and Bellatrix, and suddenly she realised that he was using Legilimency. Whether on her or Rodolphus, she couldn't tell, but she could see it in his eyes. His eyes always gave him away, she thought distantly.

"Will you excuse me for a moment?" he asked quietly, and Bellatrix frowned, for he hardly needed their permission to leave the room. He stood, and so they both did, too, and he said, "I'm going to go reassure Cygnus and Druella about Andromeda in particular. I'll be back."

Bellatrix scowled, watching him go, and once he'd gone, Rodolphus cleared his throat a little and walked round the table toward Bellatrix. She tensed up a little until he told her,

"I'm really sorry that your parents had to find out. I know you had no intention of telling them."

"The Dark Lord didn't want anyone else to know, but of course Dumbledore will try to weaken him by publicising this," Bellatrix shrugged. "It won't work; I'm strong enough in battle to cast an Unforgivable and more loyal to the Dark Lord than ever."

"I know." Rodolphus nodded, standing before Bellatrix and looking down at her. He reached to hold her face in his hand, but when she flinched, he pulled his hand away and looked ashamed. "I'm sorry to hear about Andromeda. You may not care too much, but the two of you were somewhat close, once upon a time."

"I don't care. You're right. If she gets wiped off a tapestry for being a blood traitor, that's her fault and her choice," Bellatrix snapped. "She's no sister of mine if she marries a Mudblood. And, anyway, she's the one I didn't remember at all. That probably says something."

"Someone else is getting married," Rodolphus said cautiously, and when Bellatrix shrugged and shook her head, Rodolphus' throat bobbed. "Stella's marrying… erm… she's marrying… Maximus Malfoy."

His eyes welled heavily, and Bellatrix could see he was on the verge of tears. She huffed a sigh and reached up to cup his face in her hands. She brought his head down and kissed at his cheekbone, and she whispered,

"I'm so sorry. I know you love her."

"It hurts worse that I thought it would," Rodolphus admitted. A single tear squeezed out of his eye, and Bellatrix swiped it away. He shook his head and insisted, "She says we can't keep things up; she intends on having children with Maximus straight away and… I don't think she actually loves me, so…"

"Bitch," Bellatrix whispered, and Rodolphus snorted a little laugh. He snared his arms around Bellatrix's shoulders and shook his head, looking so sad that Bellatrix actually felt a little yank of sorrow in her chest. She shrugged and insisted,

"There's got to be someone else out there to make you happy. I… you know that I…"

"You and I are very good friends," he said firmly, and he brought her close to his chest for an embrace. He pulled her back and shrugged again. "We'll have to go to Stella's wedding together, you and I. It's a Pureblood wedding, and you and I are a married Pureblood couple, so we'll have to attend the wedding together. Isn't that bizarre?"

"It is." Bellatrix laughed a little, knowing Voldemort wouldn't be anywhere near that wedding, and she promised Rodolphus, "I'll dance with you, and I'll tell her she was a moronic bitch to give you up."

He smirked at her, shaking his head. "Nobody actually wants me, I don't think."

"That can't be true," Bellatrix snapped. "We'll find you someone wonderful."

"We?" Rodolphus licked at his bottom lip and then whispered, "You really are the best wife any wizard could ever want, Bella."

"I think Druella will be fine eventually," said Voldemort's voice from behind Rodolphus as he came back into the room. Bellatrix took her time stepping away from her husband, letting Voldemort see his arms wrapped around her, and she nodded.

"Dumbledore's an idiot," she said firmly, "to think that revealing this reality to my sister and parents will do any harm. I'll just torture him or worse the next chance I get."

"Good girl," Voldemort nodded. "Rodolphus, you may go."

"Yes, Master," Rodolphus nodded, bowing respectfully. He smiled a bit at Bellatrix and said warmly, "See you, Bella."

Once he'd walked briskly out of the dining room, Bellatrix approached Voldemort and stared up at him.

"Well," she said, "I've received so much news today I feel like I've read a year's worth of the  _Daily Prophet._ "

"None of it matters," Voldemort said, tipping his head and raising his eyebrows. "Your blood traitor sister, Dumbledore revealing your being Obliviated, your husband's mistress marrying… absolutely none of it matters, you understand? Eyes forward."

Bellatrix gave him a single, sharp nod. "Yes, Master."

**Author's Note: Dumbledore was definitely up to something in having Bellatrix Obliviated in the first place, but it seems like maybe it's backfiring on him a bit. That seems to happen a lot to both Voldemort and Dumbledore, no? Now, once Andromeda's and Stella's marriages roll around, things are going to get interesting. Maybe Rabastan will get in on helping to find a new girlfriend for Rodolphus. ;) And I think we are more than due for a good, long, proper Bellamort lemon, no?**

**As always, thank you very much for reading and reviewing.**


	17. Mine

Bellatrix's eyes flew open at the sound of banging on her suite door. She sprang out of bed, for the knocking was so insistent that she reckoned something must be terribly, horribly wrong. She flew across her bedroom with dancing steps and through the sitting room, and then she flung open the suite door to see Lord Voldemort standing before her in black flannel pyjamas, swaying a little where he stood, smelling strongly of firewhisky.

"My Lord," Bellatrix breathed, "is everything all right?"

"Hello," he said, his voice something of a drawl. Bellatrix frowned.

"You've been drinking," she guessed, and he shrugged a little.

"I have. May I come in?"

Bellatrix moved aside and let him pass, and then she shut the door and knitted her fingers together as she asked again,

"Is everything all right, My Lord?"

"I… am irritated," he said, his eyes blinking slowly. Bellatrix raised her brows and nodded.

"Irritated," she repeated, and he said,

"You are still his."

Bellatrix sighed a little, turning up the sconce on the wall beside her so she could see her master better. She swallowed hard and reminded him,

"I had no say in marrying Rodolphus."

"Fair enough," Voldemort nodded, "but I am still irritated, because you are still his."

"I am most assuredly yours." Bellatrix showed him her dormant Dark Mark, and when she brushed her fingers over it, he hissed a little, and she whispered, "Master."

His throat bobbed, and she knew what he'd come for. She walked up to him and began unbuttoning his pyjama shirt, and he did not protest one bit. He stayed still as she pushed it off of him, as it fluttered to the floor like a leaf. He helped her as she shoved down his pyjama trousers and underwear, and she murmured against the skin of his chest,

"In every way that really matters, Master, I am  _yours_."

"Bella." He petted at her braided hair a little as he kicked his pyjama trousers away, and Bellatrix whispered,

"I need my wand."

" _Lubrico._ " Voldemort brushed his fingers over his half-hard cock, and Bellatrix smirked at how he could do magic wandlessly even when intoxicated. He smelled strongly of liquor, and yet he could do magic without a wand like it was nothing. She stared up at him and wrapped her fingers around his shaft, feeling him firm up under her touch, and she began to stroke. She used her left hand to caress his chest, to dance her fingers around his shoulder and arm, and she kissed at his skin as she whispered,

"I am in love with you."

"I know," he said, but she shook her head and insisted,

"It isn't like before, Master; it's different."

"How do you… mmph… how do you know?" he slurred, and she told him,

"I was obsessed with you before. It's different now. I'm in love with you. And I am not in love with him." She made her hand move faster, focusing on his tip, swirling around with pressure, and he suddenly pulled away and whined a little.

"Oh, I'm going to come all over you," he complained, and Bellatrix smiled.

"Good," she whispered, but he shook his head.

"No. I want to come inside of you, not on your nightgown."

She laughed softly then, and he surprised her by approaching her and sliding his fingers between her thighs. His dark eyes flashed as he noted,

"No knickers?"

"More comfortable to sleep without them," she said. "Besides, you never know when your master might come into your suite with his cock ready for you."

"Your words are filthy, and I like it," Voldemort said, and he bent to crush his mouth against Bellatrix's. She gasped against the force of his kiss, against the taste of firewhisky in his mouth, and she moaned as his tongue dragged around her lips. She stroked at his hair, at his scruffy jaw, and then at his shoulder again, and when he pulled away, he whispered,

"I want to make you come."

"I think you probably will," she assured him. Half his mouth curled up, and he turned her until her back was against him. His mouth was beside her ear then, and he mumbled,

"I want to make you come  _now_. Right here. Right now.  _Summagaudens._ "

Bellatrix cried out, for he'd hit her with a sudden spell she did not recognise. She threw her head back as he jammed two fingers into her and felt the sudden orgasm he'd inflicted upon her. She'd been wet already, aroused by him, but she had not been ready for this incredibly powerful, unexpected climax. She reached up to hold his head as he grunted against her cheek, and as the climax faded, he whispered again,

" _Summagaudens._ "

"Master!" Bellatrix shrieked the word this time, overwhelmed by the way her body was clenching, the feel of his fingers twisting inside of her, the heat and noise in her ears. She felt so alive that everything tingled and prickled, and she whirled around and was swept into a deep kiss as she instinctively stroked at his cock again. He was so hard now that she could feel his pulse in his shaft, and she moaned loudly up into Voldemort's mouth.

He pushed her down rather roughly then, the two of them tumbling onto the rug, and Bellatrix gasped as he began to arrange her. He yanked her until she was on her hands and knees, and suddenly she understood what he wanted. She had no memory of this position, of being penetrated from behind like this, but she figured she was about to make a memory of it. Had anyone ever taken her like this, she wondered? Perhaps. It didn't matter now.

She tipped her hips up and back and felt him stroke at her sopping entrance, heard him groan softly, and then one word came out of him that made her shiver.

"Mine."

"Yes," she whispered, shutting her eyes and letting her head fall. She nodded and assured him, "Yours."

She gasped then, for she felt his tip pressing against her, and his hands squeezing at the cheeks of her backside, and suddenly he was driving himself into her. She arched her back up as one of his hands squeezed mercilessly at a breast, and his hips began to thrash. He pumped into her like a machine, his bucking motions smooth and quick at first and then growing more erratic and deep. Bellatrix yelped at the feel of his cock banging against her cervix, at the way he was squeezing her, and she turned her head a little to try and look at him. All she could see was that his head was thrown back, that his face was contorted as if he were in pain, and suddenly his motions slowed, then stopped, and he moaned helplessly,

"Bellatrix…"

She could feel wet heat pumping into her then, and his hand went slack around her breast. She circled her hips back against him, feeling him shudder and grunt a bit at that, and he seemed to be softening inside of her. When he slipped out, all she could hear were their breaths coming hard and fast in the quiet sitting room. His come was leaking out of her, she could feel, but she stayed still, for he seemed to be studying the mess he'd made. His fingers were dragging the come around her folds, playing with the seed he'd spilt all over her body, and she liked the feel of that.

"You are mine, Bella," he mumbled, his voice a blur, and she nodded again and assured him,

"I am. In so many ways."

" _Tergeo. Scourgify._ " Voldemort cleaned her up without his wand again, for magic to him was like breathing, like a heartbeat. It was so natural for him to perform powerful magic, Bellatrix thought. Perhaps she was marveling over him. It didn't matter now.

Eventually they staggered naked into the bedroom and found their way beneath the blankets, and Bellatrix, very much on instinct, curled up beside Voldemort. He did not protest. In fact, he seemed to quite like it; he stroked at her braid and kissed at her forehead and whispered a goodnight to her. And when Bellatrix fell back to sleep, she did not dream, for her sleep was so deep and peaceful that she was lost to an inky black bliss.

**Author's Note: *Takes cold shower* Hoo, boy. They're in deep. But next up is more news from Narcissa (gasp!) and Stella's wedding, which should be… interesting. Thanks as always for reading and reviewing.**


	18. What An Odd Marriage You Have

_Dear Bellatrix,_

_As the end of term quickly approaches, I feel like an only child. I realise that you don't remember me very well. You don't remember climbing apple trees in Gran's back garden with me. You don't remember reading me stories before I could read to myself. You don't remember when Mum and Daddy took us all to Venice. You don't remember the life we all had together, and you never will, and so it's like I've lost you. I feel like I'm mourning your death, even though you're still here._

_Then there's Andromeda, who told me today that when she gets on the Hogwarts Express the day after tomorrow, that'll be it. She knows that Mum and Daddy have already wiped her out of our family for being a blood traitor. She's written to Mum and asked that her belongings be sent to the Muggles' house - to Ted Tonks' parents. They're going to live with the Tonkses, apparently, after whatever little wedding they put together happens. Will we ever see Andy again? In passing, perhaps. I suppose you're not as broken up over losing her as I am, but I know Mum and Daddy are devastated. Please try to understand our heartache._

_This is a very difficult time for us all. I'm sure you're confused and having your own struggles. Know that I love you deeply as your sister, and nothing Albus Dumbledore says or does will ever change that. I wish it weren't true, what he said about you casting a Cruciatus Curse. I hope you didn't do anything like that. But if you had to do it to someone, I'm rather glad it was to that old git. I'm beginning to loathe him._

_See you soon._

_Cissy_

* * *

Voldemort rapped gently on the door of Bellatrix's suite, and when the door swung open, his breath caught in his chest and he cleared his throat.

"You're still here. I thought you'd have gone to Castle Lestrange," he said, and she shrugged.

"All of my cosmetics and clothes are here," she said. "Rodolphus said he knows I'm more comfortable staying here for now. So he's coming here since the Malfoys are hosting the wedding. I'm just finishing my hair. Will you come in? I was just about to start braiding."

Voldemort frowned, confused, and came into her sitting room. He sank down onto the sofa and folded his hands in his lap, and he watched Bellatrix retreat into her bathroom. She looked so beautiful, he thought, in her tightly fitted black silk gown with its long wispy cape. Her makeup was aggressive, with heavy, smokey eye makeup and matte black lipstick. She wore a diamond pendant and a silver cuff that looked like a jacket of armour round her wrist. She hummed a little from the bathroom, and Voldemort said tightly,

"I'm coming to the wedding."

There was silence for a moment then, and Bellatrix called out from the bathroom,

"I think that's a bad idea, if I may say so, Master."

He scowled down at his hands and informed her, "I do not much care if you think it is a bad idea. If I want to attend a wedding, I will."

Bellatrix appeared at the doorway of the bathroom and sighed. "Neither Maximus Malfoy nor Stella Nott are Death Eaters. The nearest relatives to either of them that are are her uncle and his second cousin. You'd be out of place, and you're the one who's lectured me about how important your image is. Why do you want to come to the wedding? Master?"

He did not answer her. He turned his face away and said, "I do not owe you an explanation."

She went back into the bathroom, and he could tell she knew. He was uncomfortable with the idea of her going on Rodolphus' arm, dancing with him, being his  _wife_  right there in front of everyone. He heard her voice say quite firmly,

"I intend on telling Stella she was a fool to let my husband go. She had a good man and she let him go. And then I intend on scoping out a new girlfriend for him."

Voldemort smirked a little and shook his head. "What an odd marriage you have, Madam Black."

"No thanks to you, My Lord." She came out for good at last, her hair pulled into a braided bun at the back of her head. She stepped into high black heels and did a little spin, asking, "How do I look?"

He shut his eyes and shook his head. "Don't."

When he opened his eyes, she was frowning, and she asked seriously, "Should I change something?"

"You look magnificent, Bella," he snapped, rising from the sofa and heading for the door. "Stop torturing me. Enjoy your evening."

* * *

"Do you, Stella, take this man, Maximus, as your husband, promising to love and to honour him from this day until your very last?"

"I do," Stella said with a grin, and Bellatrix reached for Rodolphus' hand. She squeezed a little, giving Rodolphus a sorrowful look, and Rodolphus' eyes welled as the officiant bellowed,

"Now with rings and vows exchanged, it is my joy to declare you husband and wife. Maximus, you may kiss your bride!"

Everyone applauded and flew to their feet as trumpets sounded in the ballroom of Malfoy Manor, which was the largest family home either the bride or groom could access. Bellatrix forced her hands to clap, though she felt devastated for Rodolphus. When she saw that he was not applauding, she stopped. As Stella passed by, her eyes flicked to Bellatrix and then to Rodolphus. She looked stunning in her flowing ivory silk gown, her caramel waves falling round her head with a flower crown and airy veil drifting behind her. Bellatrix scowled at Stella's white roses, at her pale pink lips, thinking she was pretty and that she didn't deserve Rodolphus.

"You're too good for her," Bellatrix whispered, leaning up toward Rodolphus. He smiled sadly, and as the guests dispersed, she clung to his arm and walked with him toward the high tables that had been set up for hors-d'oeuvres and drinks.

"What would you like to drink?" he asked. "Red wine?"

"That's fine. Thank you," Bellatrix said. She suffered with Rodolphus through Stella's sister and Maximus' brother giving toasts about their future together, and then she stood beside her husband, popping mushroom tarts into her mouth as Stella and Maximus had their ceremonial first dance.

"You don't have to watch them," Bellatrix murmured. "She looks ugly in that dress; it makes her stomach look lumpy."

"She looks beautiful, and you know it," Rodolphus grumbled. He was right, of course. Bellatrix huffed and ate another tart, and she started looking round the room. Her eyes settled on Katarina Shacklebolt, and she asked,

"What about Katarina? She's gorgeous, with that flawless dark skin of hers and her black eyes. Lovely."

"Oh, are you a good judge of witches now?" Rodolphus teased. He sighed. "She's twenty-seven and single by choice."

"So? Good on her," Bellatrix said, but Rodolphus shook his head.

"An eight-year age difference in that direction? It's… not the same as you and him."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "What a stupid double standard. Katarina's lovely. You should speak to her."

"She seems rather cold," Rodolphus said, eating a tart. "Next?"

Bellatrix giggled softly and eyed a somewhat plump, short witch further down the ballroom. She had a sweet face and auburn hair that reached her shoulders. She wasn't the prettiest witch in the room by far, but Bellatrix knew damned well that she was sweet. She'd been a Hufflepuff in their year - Clara Abbott.

"Clara," Bellatrix said warmly. "Nobody wants to marry her because she's a little plump, but she's so kind, isn't she?"

"She is." Rodolphus sipped his wine and shrugged. "Who cares if she's a little plump? She's got pretty eyes."

Bellatrix grinned. "You should dance with her."

"I have to dance with you," he said, as if mocking her a little. Bellatrix nodded.

"Right. Dance two dances with me and then hand me off to Rabastan and ask Clara Abbott to dance, all right?"

"All right." Rodolphus led Bellatrix toward the dance floor, since the first song had ended. Maximus and Stella were coming over toward the drinks, and Rodolphus squeezed at Bellatrix's hand.

"Don't," he said in a low voice, but she murmured back,

"You can't stop me."

"Don't!" he said, but he sounded almost amused. Bellatrix rushed over toward Stella, who seemed halfway between surprise and dread, and she leaned in toward the bride and hissed,

"Oh, Stella. You beautiful, foolish bitch. You gave up my dream of a husband for this ridiculous lump. I wish you all the best."

Stella looked shocked, but Bellatrix just dragged her thumb over the bottom of her matte black lipstick and walked away quickly with Rodolphus. She let him sweep her into his arms on the dance floor, and he shook his head as he scolded her,

"Telling her off on her wedding day? Really."

"She should know that she was an idiot," Bellatrix said defensively as they started to move, and Rodolphus shrugged.

"Was she? I'm married. She wants babies. A house. I couldn't give her any of that. She's better off married to a Malfoy, isn't she?"

Bellatrix scowled. "Well, maybe  _she's_  better off. And you're better off without her. Still, it angers me. I want you to be happy."

"I am happy, because I'm married to you," Rodolphus said, and Bellatrix's eyes welled a little as she confessed,

"I've spent six of the last ten nights in the same bed as him."

"Good," Rodolphus nodded. "It's good to sleep with someone when you love them. Sleeping in someone's arms is very restorative, I find."

Bellatrix curled up half her mouth and shook her head. "Well. I love him, but I don't think it goes the other way round."

"No?" Rodolphus cocked up an eyebrow. "I suspect it does."

"You should dance with Clara Abbott before someone else gets to her," Bellatrix insisted as the song ended. "I'm going to go drink some more wine and then find Rabastan and make him dance with me, and I want you to make Clara Abbott feel very pretty. You understand?"

"Yes." Rodolphus kissed Bellatrix's knuckles, and she gave him a little smile before she walked away quickly.

* * *

Voldemort could hear the strains of the dance music from downstairs, and he could hear that the crowd was dispersing. The rattle of dishes and the cacophony of conversation had quieted, and now the party seemed to be fading into oblivion.

She'd been right about him not making an appearance at the wedding. It would have debased him to do so. Still, he'd wanted to tell her this whilst dancing with her, for some reason. He'd come to this conclusion days ago after realising that it was indeed possible. He'd resisted this for weeks, the idea of this, but now he knew it was true, and there was no use fighting it, much less denying her the truth of it. So he sat in her sitting room and drummed his fingers on the arm of the sofa, waiting for her to come back.

When she did, he stood, and he watched her give her husband an embrace in the corridor and murmur a goodnight to him before coming into the suite. She shut the door, looking entirely unsurprised to see him there. She was still positively stunning in her black caped gown, her black lipstick, her hair yanked back into a braided bun. She began to take her necklace off and stepped out of her high-heeled shoes as she walked toward her bathroom, and she asked,

"Did Dobby get you some of the food, at least, Master?"

"The tarts were mushroom. You'd have preferred gruyere, I think," he said, and he heard her laugh a little from the bathroom. He walked toward her and asked, "Did you find a suitable replacement for your husband's mistress?"

"I hope so," she said. "He'd danced with Clara Abbott thrice by the end of the night, and she seemed entranced. I embraced her before we left, just to show her goodwill. I did call Stella a bitch. Couldn't help myself."

Voldemort snorted a little laugh and rolled his eyes. After a moment, Bellatrix came out of the bathroom, having pulled the pins out of her curls and Scoured her face, and she asked worriedly,

"What's wrong?"

He shrugged, shaking his head, but she walked toward him and put her hands on his chest, saying quietly,

"Your eyes give you away, Master. What's wrong?"

"I…" He covered her hands with his, then finally bent to kiss her forehead, and he forced the words out from between his lips.

"I love you."

She breathed in sharply, and her hands tightened on his chest, and she just nodded as she reached up for his face, silently encouraging him to kiss her.

**Author's Note: Gahhh. Everyone's either in love or needing it. But Druella and Cygnus are definitely going to be in meltdown mode pretty soon here, and it sure feels like we're due for a battle, doesn't it? Eek.**


	19. You Little Fool

" _Lubrico._ "

Bellatrix giggled a bit as she blinked her eyes open.

"Again?" she whispered, and she gasped as her hips were tipped just so and Voldemort pushed into her from behind.

"Again." He kissed at her shoulder blade and began to pump his hips slowly. Bellatrix moaned a little, feeling raw and sore and not caring one bit. He'd been atop her once after the wedding, and then she'd ridden him about a half hour after that. They'd fallen asleep curled up together, and now he was waking her like this, his cock sliding slowly in and out as he spooned her.

"Master." She reached behind her to hold his head, knowing she wouldn't come again and not minding. She felt him push her curls away so he could kiss at her neck, and she shivered a bit as she whispered again, "Master."

"I love you." His breath was hot against her neck as he kissed, as his hips thrust, and soon enough he stilled and came with a subtle grunt inside of her. She tipped her head back and just let him hold her, his fingers coursing up over her ribs and squeezing at her breast a little as he came down from his high. "I love you, Bella."

He seemed to take comfort in saying it, and she certainly took comfort in hearing it. She let him slip out of her, and she slowly turned and burrowed her face against his chest.

"And I love you, Master," she murmured against his chest, kissing him there. "Now, can we sleep until the morning?"

* * *

Bellatrix opened the door to Mistress Trennen's Cosmetology Parlour in Knockturn Alley, and a little bell tinkled over her head. She nodded to the tall, thin German witch with her blonde braids, Mistress Trennen herself, who stood in flowing aubergine robes and said smoothly,

"Madam Lestrange. Have you come in for a trim on those beautiful curls today?"

"I have, yes." Bellatrix picked up a fistful of her hair and lamented, "I can never get it right myself. These damned split ends I get. My hair is so dry."

"Not to worry. Come and have a seat," said Mistress Trennen gestured to the black leather chair before a heavy brass-framed mirror, and Bellatrix sat. Above her head was a sturdy brass chandelier, which Mistress Trennen brightened with her wand to give her more working light. She Summoned over a wispy black cape, which she snapped around Bellatrix's neck, and she murmured a few charms to Scour Bellatrix's hair.

"How have you been?" asked Mistress Trennen in her soft, comforting accent. "It has been some time since you've been in."

"Yes. I… erm… I've been a little unwell," Bellatrix said carefully. She'd come today without permission; she'd Apparated here out of desperation when she'd seen in the mirror that the ends of her hair were frayed and white, in desperate need of a trim she didn't feel confident giving herself. Voldemort wouldn't mind, she thought, if she just popped over to Knockturn Alley quickly and came back. Dobby had informed her that there was a cosmetology parlour in Knockturn Alley, and Bellatrix figured that was probably where she'd gone for most of her life. It seemed she'd been right.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Mistress Trennen said, studying Bellatrix's curls and tutting a little. "Your sister Andromeda was in here just a few days ago. She was getting her hair styled for a wedding she said. Her own wedding. I assume you attended; was it nice?"

Bellatrix just stared into the mirror, and Mistress Trennen seemed to pick up on the fact that Bellatrix had been nowhere near the wedding. Mistress Trennen smirked a little and nodded.

"So that's why she didn't want to talk about her groom. A shame. I'll miss Andromeda's business, but blood traitors are not welcome in this shop."

"Good," Bellatrix nodded. She sat still, keeping her back straight as Mistress Trennen began using an enchanted pair of scissors then. The shears were charmed, Bellatrix could tell, to make clean cuts with minimal error. It was far more precise than even the most expert Severing Charm. Some things were better done by hand.

Bellatrix watched as her hair fell to the floor in little tufts, forming small piles that Vanished. The floor was probably charmed, too, she thought. After awhile, Mistress Trennen said,

"You have such beautiful curls, Madam Lestrange. I confess my jealousy."

Bellatrix scoffed. "They're difficult to wash and annoying at night. Don't be jealous."

"All finished." Mistress Trennen fussed with Bellatrix's curls a little and then took her cape off. Bellatrix nodded and smiled a little into the mirror.

"Looks great." Bellatrix extracted her little drawstring purse, and Mistress Trennen said quietly,

"Three Galleons, please."

Bellatrix counted out four, just to keep goodwill since Andromeda had been in the shop recently. Mistress Trennen looked very satisfied as she tucked the coins away, and she told Bellatrix,

"Have a wonderful day, Madam Lestrange."

"And you." Bellatrix felt refreshed and very glad she'd come as she walked out of the Cosmetology Parlour. Knockturn Alley was quiet and dark right now, and she decided it wasn't unreasonable to go to Diagon Alley and grab a quick treat, just for a change of pace. She started to make her way up the steps that led from Knockturn Alley to Diagon Alley, and as soon as she did, a sharp voice from behind her snapped,

"Bellatrix Lestrange?"

She whirled around, reaching for her wand on instinct. She saw a ginger-haired young wizard approaching her, frowning at her, and he flashed her a badge that read  _Auror_.

"You're suspected of casting an Unforgivable," the red-haired wizard said in a hiss. "We'd like you to come in and discuss that with us."

"Us?" Bellatrix laughed, looking around her. "Try and take me. Here in front of everyone. Good luck to you. I'm going for ice cream."

She started to walk away, and the wizard called from behind her,

"Madam Lestrange, you are suspected of use of the Cruciatus Curse. You need to come with me."

Bellatrix huffed a sigh and turned slowly as people around them in the street stopped moving. Witches with bags over their arms and wizards talking in clusters went silent and stared. Bellatrix shrugged lightly and demanded,

"What proof have you got?"

"The word of Albus Dumbledore!" the young ginger wizard exclaimed, as though that was some sort of legal evidence. Bellatrix giggled and shook her head.

"That old madman? He lies," Bellatrix snarled. She held up her wand and declared, "I've never cast a Cruciatus Curse in my life, and even if I had, I wouldn't come and discuss it with you. Let Albus Dumbledore spew his nonsense, the old bastard. Why didn't he kill Grindelwald when he had the chance? Coward!"

The ginger-haired young wizard went very red-faced, and as he approached her, Bellatrix tipped her head up and pointed her wand at him.

"Care to find out what I'm capable of doing?" she asked softly, and the wizard pulled his own wand out.

"You need to come to the Ministry for questioning," he said again, but Bellatrix narrowed her eyes and shook her head.

"No. I don't think so.  _Stupefy!_ " She watched the blue light of her spell sock into the chest of the Auror, sending him flying backward against a nearby building, and then she Disapparated from where she stood. She thought hard about Malfoy Manor, and when she appeared again, she shoved open the front door of the manor and went dashing inside.

"Master!" she screamed, running up the main steps of the foyer and sprinting down the corridor. "Master!"

He came stepping out of his office, scowling at her, and he demanded,

"What on Earth is the matter?"

"I was almost arrested!" Bellatrix cried, and he shook his head.

"What? Where were you?"

"Knockturn Alley," Bellatrix said breathlessly. Voldemort snatched at her wrist and yanked her into his office, slamming the door so loudly that Bellatrix flinched.

"You were in Knockturn Alley," he repeated, and she nodded, lowering her head. He growled, "Look at me!"

She did, feeling terrified of him all of a sudden. She opened her mouth and prepared to speak, but he snarled at her,

"Do not apologise; it's too late for that. You went to get a damned haircut? We could have brought someone here for that!"

  
"I do not much care for being imprisoned!" Bellatrix exclaimed, but Voldemort tipped his head and informed her,

"When I am in power, you will be anything but imprisoned, Bellatrix. I can see what happened. I can see it in your mind. Walking brazenly into Diagon Alley when the newspaper has trumpeted Dumbledore's assertion that you tortured him? You fool! You little fool; you could have ruined everything!"

He slammed her up against the door then, looking very frustrated as he held her shoulders tightly. Bellatrix tried to wriggle away, and she complained,

"You're hurting me."

"Good!" Voldemort barked. "You were a bloody little fool today. Gallivanting off to London for a damned haircut. Do not ever behave so foolishly again, or I'll be glad if you're captured. Do you understand me?"

Her eyes watered, for his hands had tightened so hard on her shoulders that she could hardly breathe, but she nodded and squared her jaw. She was shocked when he bent down and crushed his mouth against hers, and when she opened her mouth in alarm, he shoved his tongue into her mouth and dragged it around roughly. She pushed at his chest a little, and he huffed as he wiped his wrist over his lips. He shook his head and insisted again,

"You stay where I tell you. You're wanted; you're a fugitive. That's not the same as being a prisoner. It does mean you can't go into Auror territory. You little fool. Get out of my office."

She did as he said, opening the office door and hurrying out, dashing down the corridor and up the stairs at the end.

**Author's Note: Whoops. She done gone and made him angry. But after the argument, people always make up, right? Riiiiiiiiiiiight? :} Thanks as always for reading and reviewing.**


	20. You Did Not Have My Permission

For someone so intelligent, she could be a complete fool.

Voldemort sloshed chicken soup out of his bowl in anger as he ate it with hasty motions, and he angrily Vanished it with wandless magic. He huffed and narrowed his eyes, shoving his mostly-empty bowl away and barking,

"Dobby!"

Soon enough, the House-Elf appeared in his office, and Voldemort snapped,

"I've finished eating."

"Yes, sir." Dobby sent the dishes dissolving into the air, sending them down to the kitchen through his strange magic, and Voldemort asked,

"Has she eaten? Bellatrix?"

"She… she is not here, sir," Dobby said cautiously, and Voldemort flew to his feet. He stalked around his desk and snatched Dobby's scrap of a garment, shaking the Elf a bit and growling,

"What do you  _mean_ , she's not here?"

"She… she told Dobby she was g-going to Castle Lestrange, sir," Dobby said. "She said she wanted to… to see her husband, sir."

Voldemort tossed Dobby roughly against the wall, and Dobby yelped in pain. Voldemort snarled and whipped his wand out, throwing open the door to his office and stalking with long strides down the corridor to the foyer where he could Disapparate. As soon as he could, he whirled to his right and came to outside the heavy wooden doors of Castle Lestrange, which were, to his chagrin, heavily warded.

He slammed his fist against the door and barked,

"Bellatrix!"

After an interminable moment of standing in the drizzling rain, the door slowly opened and a shivering little House-Elf, an old female called Plonky, whispered,

"Please, sir, do come in."

"Out of my way." Voldemort kicked the House-Elf aside and shoved his way into the gothic, arched entryway of the castle. "Bellatrix! Get out here! Now!"

"She is in the lounge with my masters," Plonky whispered, twining her long fingers together. Voldemort pinched his lips and adjusted his grip on his wand, for he could hear Bellatrix laughing in the distance. He felt so angry that his ears were ringing and he was dizzy as he stalked down the elaborate rug running through the stone corridor. He finally reached an open archway leading to an elegant lounge, and suddenly he wished he hadn't let four hours pass since he'd sent Bellatrix out of his office. She'd apparently used that time to come here and socialise and drink.

"Hello," he said lightly as he entered the lounge. Rabastan and Rodolphus flew to their feet, both of them obviously tipsy. Voldemort was infuriated to see that Rodolphus had had his arm round Bellatrix's shoulders on a sofa before he'd stood, and he panted through his nose as Bellatrix met his eyes and slowly set her drink down. She brushed at her skirts and stood, wobbling a little, and he tipped his head.

"You did not have my permission to be here," he informed her crisply, and Rabastan Lestrange muttered,

"Master, may I be excused?"

"You may not," he replied, keeping his eyes on Bellatrix. Rabastan leaned onto the back of a chair to steady himself, and Bellatrix shrugged a little as she told Voldemort,

"I live here."

"For now, you reside at Malfoy Manor under my supervision, owing to the terrible damage your brain suffered in battle," he clipped. "You are not to leave unless I give you permission, and I did not give you permission. Come back with me. Now."

"I'd rather stay here," she said, and suddenly Rodolphus grabbed at her wrist and hissed into her ear,

"You're going to get yourself - all of us - killed. Stop this, Bella. I told you that you shouldn't have come. Go with him."

"You think you can tell me what to do. He thinks he can tell me what to do." Bellatrix yanked her wrist away from Rodolphus and snarled, "You can both bugger straight off."

"Bellatrix!" Voldemort was shaking a little now, aiming his wand at her, and he sent her crashing to her knees with a wandless spell. She gasped and glared up at him, and he informed her, "You are my servant. Serve me or die. Apologise and pledge your respect to me, or a green flash will be the last thing you see."

Bellatrix furrowed her brows and started to reach for her wand, but Voldemort shook his head, shocked by her insolence, and he whispered,

" _Expelliarmus._ "

Her wand flew into his left hand, and he tucked it away, saying,

"This is mine until future notice. Apologise. Tell me you're very sorry for going to London without permission, for coming here without permission. Apologise and pledge me your respect. Now."

"Bella, do it," Rodolphus said desperately, and Rabastan murmured,

"Come on, Bells."

Bellatrix's eyes welled heavily, and she finally shrugged and said lightly,

"Fine. I'm so sorry, Master. So sorry that after waking up naked in your arms this morning and realising my hair needed a trim, I decided to go get one. I'm so sorry that I dared walk into public, and that I Stunned an Auror and escaped arrest. Let's not forget why I'm wanted in the first place - for torturing your enemy in battle. I'm very sorry for spending time with my actual husband. So sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Bellatrix," Rodolphus whined, sounding terrified, and Voldemort slashed his wand toward Bellatrix and exclaimed,

" _Flipendo Tria!"_

A blue whirlwind of sparks swallowed Bellatrix up and threw her so roughly against the wall that she screamed in pain and crumpled to the ground like a rag doll. Rodolphus made a move toward her, but Voldemort barked at him,

"Stay where you are."

He stared at Bellatrix as she staggered up to her feet, blood trickling from a lip that appeared to have been split open. Voldemort's chest pulled painfully at the sight of her bleeding, at the sight of her lip burst open like that, and he dug his top teeth into his own lip as he mumbled,

"Get over here."

She stumbled toward him, tripping a little and catching Rodolphus' arm for support on her way. When she neared Voldemort, she sank to her knees, blood running down her face and dripping off her chin. She reached up and swiped it away with her wrist, approaching Voldemort on her knees. She crawled toward him with her hands folded before her as if in prayer, and she sniffed with her head bowed. Rodolphus and Rabastan looked utterly terrified where they stood, and the brothers glanced at one another with fear as Bellatrix bent down to brush her lips against the hem of Voldemort's robes.

"I should not have gone anywhere without your permission, Master," she said softly. "I am sorry. I will be your obedient soldier. I promise it."

"Good girl. Stand," Voldemort said. She tried to do as he commanded, but it seemed like her knees were sore from being thrown against the wall. He reached for her elbow and helped her stand, and she nodded her thanks. More blood was trickling down over her face, and Voldemort pinched his lips and shook his head at her. He brushed his wand over her face and murmured, " _Episkey. Tergeo. Scourgify._ "

Her lip knitted itself up, and the blood siphoned and was cleansed away. Bellatrix tipped her chin up a little and nodded at Voldemort, who bent to brush her lips against his. His breath mingled with hers as he murmured,

"Don't you ever disobey me again. Not ever again. You understand me?"

"I understand, Master," Bellatrix whispered, and he kissed her more deeply, snaring his fingers into her curls and delved his tongue between her lips, and he laced his fingers through hers and pulled away.

"Come with me now," he said quietly, and Bellatrix obeyed.

* * *

"I'm sorry," Bellatrix mumbled, sitting up in her bed. Voldemort sighed, combing his hair in front of her mirror, standing with a towel round his waist. He'd taken a long shower whilst she'd readied herself for bed, and now he'd scrubbed his teeth and was about to put his pyjamas on. Bellatrix sounded desperate as she apologised for what had to be the hundredth time. "I'm sorry!"

"Enough." Voldemort walked out into her bedroom, walking over to the neatly folded black pyjamas that he'd Summoned from his own suite. He picked up his underwear and pulled off the towel, wandlessly Banishing it to the bathroom. He stood there naked before her for a moment, letting her study him as she chewed her lip, and he cocked up an eyebrow.

He tossed his underwear down and slowly approached the bed, and as Bellatrix's chest rose and fell quickly beneath her scant little nightgown, Voldemort felt himself go a little hard. He climbed onto the bed, slithering beneath the blankets, and he rotated until he was on top of Bellatrix, hovering above her.

"You will obey what I tell you from now on," he whispered. "If they'd arrested you in Diagon Alley, I would have been upset about more than just the loss of a good soldier and some information. I was upset about you sitting and drinking with Rodolphus' arm around you without my permission. Do you understand?"

He watched her eyes flash beneath him, and as he shoved her legs apart and put his fingers between her thighs, she nodded. He felt a flush of damp heat there, moistening her folds and making his fingers slide around, and he bent down until his lips were pressed beneath her ear. He kissed her there, pulsing his fingers, and he listened to her breath quicken.

"I did not want to hurt you," he informed her. "You left me no choice. You were being a fool, and I had no choice as your master."

"I'm sorry," she said again, lacing her arms up and around his shoulders. She kissed his bicep and whispered, "I'll be obedient to you. I promise."

"Don't lose your fire, Bella, but you have to listen. I will not have you getting arrested or… or…"

_Sitting drunk with Rodolphus' arm around you_ , he left unsaid, but he knew, somehow, that she understood. He gulped hard and kissed her mouth, being careful since he'd split her lip earlier. But she kissed him back in earnest, and so he deepened it, lining himself up and thrusting his cock into her in a fluid motion. He began to pump his hips, to enter and leave her in motions that felt so divinely fulfilling. He eyes rolled back a little at the feel of her snug and warm around him, and when her thighs tightened round his hips, he whispered,

"You know I love you."

She kissed his shoulder and reached up to cradle his face, and she mumbled again, "I'm sorry."

"Say it back," he commanded her, jerking his hips hard as everything started to go tight and hot. She whispered it over and over again then.  _I love you. I love you, Master._  It did him in to hear her saying it, chanting it, and he let his seed leap into her and fill her up. He kissed her deeply, moaning against her lips and then panting against her neck, and he finally lay on his back beside her and encouraged her to curl up against him. He kissed at her damp forehead and combed his fingers through the curls she'd been desperate to have neatly trimmed. He sighed and told her,

"The next time you need something like a haircut, let me know and it will be arranged in a way that prevents you going into public unnecessarily. Once I'm in power, you'll practically own Diagon Alley, Bella."

She kissed his chest and said quietly, "All right. I'm sorry."

"I do not want you spending time alone with Rodolphus without my permission. You are mine," he said firmly, and Bellatrix stroked at his sparse chest hair and said even more sincerely,

"I am very sorry."

"Stop apologising," he snapped. "Enough. I want to go to sleep and wake up with this all behind us."

She was quiet for a long while, and then at last she whispered. "Goodnight, Master."

He petted her curls and kissed her forehead again, shutting his eyes as he mumbled, "Night, Bella."

**Author's Note: Oh, Bellatrix. Her attitude finally got the better of her, and Voldemort isn't exactly one to be trifled with when it comes to obedience. What will the** _**Daily Prophet** _ **have to say about Bellatrix's little outburst in Diagon Alley? Eek! Thanks as always for reading and reviewing!**


	21. What I Wanted

_BELLATRIX LESTRANGE STUNS AUROR IN DIAGON ALLEY!_

_Bellatrix Lestrange, 19, catapulted to the position of Undesirable Number Three, behind only Lord Voldemort and Conleth Avery, after Stunning an Auror in Diagon Alley. The Auror, Winston Weasley, was attempting to convince Madam Lestrange to come into the Ministry for questioning regarding her suspected use of the Cruciatus Curse against Albus Dumbledore at a conflict last month. When confronted by Weasley, Madam Lestrange spoke ill of Dumbledore, threatened Weasley, and then Stunned him before Disapparating._

_Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Bartemius Crouch said that he had visited Castle Lestrange to attempt to meet with Bellatrix, but her husband Rodolphus insisted she was not there, and a search of the property found no trace of her. A visit to her parents, Cygnus and Druella Black, likewise turned up no sign of her. For now, she is considered exceedingly dangerous and volatile, as she seems willing to use any means necessary to evade Ministry apprehension and to avoid questioning._

_If you have any information regarding the whereabouts of Bellatrix Lestrange, please contact the Auror Office at once._

Bellatrix set down her copy of the  _Daily Prophet_ and paced slowly in her sitting room. She wanted to go outside, but it was cold and rainy. She'd thrown open the windows anyway, not minding the way the chilly air and misty rain was blowing into the room and sending the curtains billowing. She wore a heavy black velvet gown and let her curls blow round her face as she paced, reading the newspaper article for the third time.

"It's fucking freezing in here," said a voice, and when she looked up, Rodolphus was standing in the doorway. Bellatrix set down the newspaper and shrugged.

"I don't mind it."

"Well, I'm here to work with you in the Pensieve," Rodolphus said. "Mind if I shut the windows? Please?"

"Go ahead." Bellatrix sighed and set down the newspaper on the little table, sinking onto the sofa and staring at the wispy silver inside the Pensieve. She heard Rodolphus shut the windows, and then he joined her and said tightly,

"The Ministry searched your rooms and everything. You can't come back to Castle Lestrange any time soon. You have to stay here."

"I know. The Dark Lord's warded this place up like a virgin's cunt, he said," Bellatrix huffed, and Rodolphus threw up an eyebrow.

"He said that?"

"Well, no." Bellatrix smirked a little, and Rodolphus snorted a laugh. He glanced up and down Bellatrix's form and asked,

"Has he given you your wand back yet?"

"No," Bellatrix said uncomfortably. "Today, he said. I've earned it back."

Rodolphus just nodded. He shrugged and asked her, "Are you sure you want to see this? You don't have to…"

"I want to know what it's like for people who aren't in love," Bellatrix told him crisply. "I did it when I wasn't in love, and I want to know what that was like."

Rodolphus pinched his lips and nodded. "All right."

He brought his wand up to his temple and shut his eyes, looking pained for a long moment, and then he dragged the silky thread of silver into the bowl of the Pensieve. He gulped visibly and told her,

"I'm going to stay out of the memory. I'll stay up here."

"You certain?" Bellatrix frowned, but Rodolphus looked away and asserted,

"Quite certain, thanks."

Bellatrix rubbed at his knee and told him, "Thank you for showing me."

Then she pushed her face deeply into the silver liquid mist of the Pensieve and felt her body tumble end over end through the space above the memory. When she landed, she was in a washed-out bedroom. Powder blue. Her bedroom at Castle Lestrange.

"You can leave your nightgown on," the shadow of Rodolphus said awkwardly, approaching the bed. Bellatrix's memory, where she lay, let out a shaking breath and murmured,

"I'm fine naked. I'm already naked."

"Oh." Rodolphus stripped off his nightshirt, and Bellatrix was surprised to see that his penis was flaccid and much smaller than Voldemort's. He rubbed at it a bit with his hand and climbed into the blankets, and he asked Bellatrix carefully, "Can you… could you try and help me…?"

"Oh. Erm… all right."

Bellatrix could see then that she was touching him beneath the blanket, that he was panting and driving his head back, concentrating hard on what she was doing. She kissed at his chest and he moaned a little, but it sounded rather fake. Suddenly Bellatrix was mounting him, climbing atop him, and as she slowly rode him, Rodolphus' hands went to her waist and he helped her sway. Bellatrix's memory said quietly,

"Feels good."

She didn't sound like she meant it very much. She tipped her head back but seemed to just be staring at the ceiling. After what seemed like an eternity of nothing, of empty movement, Rodolphus' hands tightened a little on her waist and he let out a choked sort of sound, and then Bellatrix wordlessly climbed off of him and reached for her wand, hurriedly cleaning herself up between her legs and wrenching on her nightgown. She lay back down beneath the blankets and covered herself back up, and Rodolphus seemed to be catching his breath as he kissed her forehead and said softly,

"Night, Bella."

"Night," she replied, and she watched him pull his nightshirt back on and leave her bedroom without another word.

Bellatrix pulled up and out of the memory, and when she did, she found Rodolphus' eyes and gave him a sad little smile. She shook her head and insisted,

"It would never feel very good between you and me, I don't think."

"Perhaps not," Rodolphus agreed. He licked his bottom lip and admitted, "I had Clara over for dinner last night."

"Just dinner?" Bellatrix asked with a crooked little smile, and Rodolphus chuckled.

"Dinner and a few drinks. I kissed her goodnight. I don't want to rush her. She doesn't seem one to be rushed."

"No. Take your time. She seems like a good one." Bellatrix cupped Rodolphus' face and leaned forward to kiss his cheekbone gently. Just as she did, the door to the suite opened, and Lord Voldemort came striding rather confidently in, saying,

"These damned reporters think… oh. Rodolphus."

"My Lord." Rodolphus flew to his feet and bowed respectfully, and Voldemort pursed his lips, glancing at Bellatrix as he raised his brows. He held up his copy of the newspaper and said simply,

"I just came to discuss the  _Daily Prophet._ "

"Oh. Rodolphus was just leaving," Bellatrix said. "He was showing me a memory in the Pensieve."

"Was he? Hm. All right. See you some other time, Rodolphus," Voldemort quipped, and Rodolphus immediately took the hint. Once he'd gone, Voldemort shut the door behind him and noted, "You were kissing him when I came in."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "I was giving him a kiss on his cheek to tell him that I like his new mistress."

"Oh." Voldemort took the place on the sofa where Rodolphus had been, and he told Bellatrix, "I wrote to your father to follow up after the Ministry visited their home. He said they didn't find anything. But he made a good point - he worries that they will attempt to use Andromeda as a weapon. He vowed to stand strong against any such attempts and to treat Andromeda as an enemy."

"And do you think my mother will be able to treat her own daughter as an enemy?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort dragged his teeth over his lip.

"I… I certainly hope that your mother is strong enough to resist the temptation to invite Andromeda in for tea if she were to show up at her door, yes."

"You don't sound so sure," Bellatrix said concernedly, and Voldemort sucked on his teeth and said,

"I think it would be wise to Confound your mother into completely rejecting Andromeda. I have confidence in your father."

Bellatrix nodded. "You want me to do it."

"It would be less suspicious if you did," Voldemort told her. "She wouldn't see it coming, and she could be invited here for tea with you."

"Anything you ask, My Lord," Bellatrix nodded. "Anything you command."

Voldemort cracked his knuckles a little and said, "I'll have her brought here in a few days. Give it all some room to breathe. In the meantime, I wanted to show you a memory of my own. I have no idea what Rodolphus was showing you, but this is something I've wanted to show you for some time. I confess it's not terribly productive for battle strategising, but… anyway."

He brought his wand up to his temple and shut his eyes, taking a very deep breath, and Bellatrix was mesmerised by the sight of him. Breathe in, breathe out. At last he drew the wand away from his head and deposited the silver stream into the Pensieve, and then he gave her a little smile and said,

"Let's go."

She lowered her face with his, feeling anxious all of a sudden, until they crashed down and landed on their feet in a space Bellatrix recognised at once.

"It's here," she said. "It's Malfoy Manor."

"It was your father's thirty-fifth birthday party," Voldemort said. "Abraxas Malfoy threw it for him. He had it here at the manor. It was one of my first major social events upon coming back from the Continent. You were… oh, I suppose thirteen?"

"There I am," Bellatrix breathed. She walked quickly across the ballroom floor in the memory, past slightly younger versions of Avery and Mulciber and their wives. A little Lucius Malfoy, too young for Hogwarts, went scurrying by with a giggling little Narcissa in tow. Bellatrix neared the memory of herself, a gangly, awkward little creature, all limbs and no curve. She stared at herself as she plopped a tart into her mouth and sulked a little. Druella Black was off with Andromeda, chatting with some witches Bellatrix didn't recognise. Suddenly the shade of Lord Voldemort, just a bit younger with less grey in his hair, marched up to the memory of Bellatrix, walking beside Cygnus Black III.

"And this, sir, is my eldest daughter, Bellatrix. She's a third-year Slytherin. Bella, this is a man who calls himself Lord Voldemort these days, though when we were in school together, he was Tom Riddle. He's going to be very important, so you'd best make yourself known to him."

"Very important, eh?" Bellatrix looked sceptical, and Voldemort smirked a bit at her.

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Black."

"Cygnus! Come here. The cake's dry," complained Irma Black, and Cygnus excused himself as his mother dragged him away. Voldemort put his hands behind his back, and Bellatrix demanded,

"Why are you going to be important?"

"Because I am going to unite all of wizarding Britain," Voldemort said simply. "I am going to use whatever means I must to put witches and wizards in their rightful place again."

"Atop goblins and Squibs and Mudbloods, I hope," Bellatrix said, eating another little tart. Voldemort took a step toward her and tipped his head.

"That's right," he said. "Have you got any interest in such things, Miss Black?"

Suddenly she stopped chewing, and she set her plate down and used a glass of lemonade to wash down her bite of tart. She nodded and said seriously,

"I wish I'd been alive to fight for Grindelwald. I would have been a soldier for him. A good soldier."

"A good soldier," Voldemort repeated. "Is that what you want to do, Bellatrix? Do you want to fight?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Have you got battles planned, Lord Voldemort?"

"Perhaps I have," he said cryptically. Cygnus rushed back over, mumbling apologies about the chocolate layer of cake being drier than the vanilla. Voldemort shrugged and insisted it was no matter, and all the while Bellatrix stared at him like he was a flame and she was a moth drawn to him.

"If you'll excuse me," he said at last, "I've got a bit of mingling to do. It was good meeting you, Miss Black."

"And you, Lord Voldemort," she said quite breathlessly, her eyes locked on him as he hurried away.

Bellatrix tore her head up and out of the Pensieve, blinking quickly as she realised the memory had happened only six years earlier. She turned her eyes to Voldemort's, and she read a bit of uncertainty there, as if he were waiting for her reaction. She finally scoffed and told him,

"I was entranced by you from the first, Master."

"Not this time round," he reminded her. "You called me an arse and a right git this time round."

She laughed a little and reached for his hand as she said quietly, "You were being a bit of an arse, shoving me onto the ground just because you didn't want to show me the whole of the memory of us dancing. You were being a right git."

"Was I?" Voldemort brought her knuckles to his lips. "Sorry about that."

She smiled a little and studied the lines on his face, the threads of silver in his hair, and she whispered,

"I love you."

He just nodded, pulling out her wand and placing it in her lap, and he told her,

"Clara Abbott is a good choice. I think she'll make him happy. I'll send that owl back to your father to get your mother out here for tea, and you can Confound her about Andromeda whilst she's here."

He kissed her hand again and rose, and as he started to leave the room, Bellatrix called,

"You came here to discuss the  _Daily Prophet._ "

"No." He turned smirked, his hand on the door. "That was just an excuse. You keep the newspaper. I got what I wanted."

**Author's Note: Fair warning that this story is about ⅔ of the way done. I'm having tons of fun writing it and loving how many people are reading it, but I'd be super grateful if you get a quick moment to leave your thoughts in the comments. Thanks so very much. :)**


	22. Chapter 22

"Hello, Mum." Bellatrix drew into the lounge where her mother was waiting for her, and Druella rose, looking quite sad in a clasped deep plum robe. Her dark bobbed hair had been styled into waves that framed her thin face, and she studied Bellatrix as she nodded and sat back down at the little table. Bellatrix smiled a bit and started to make herself a cup of oolong tea. She set it on the table and let it steep, and she said to Druella,

"Thanks for coming. I wanted to make sure you were all right. I'd heard that Andromeda was married, and then with me getting into trouble…"

"I'm just glad you weren't arrested," Druella said tightly. She sipped at her rose tea and sniffed, her hand shaking a little as the teacup clattered a little on the saucer. She set it all down and huffed. "I've known for years you'd be fighting for him. It's been my worst fear… losing you to someone's Killing Curse. Somehow, it's even more terrible that you don't remember me braiding your hair before bed when you were little."

Bellatrix's eyes burned a bit, and she asked, "You braided my hair?"

"Of course I did." Druella seemed like she was about to cry. She nodded and said, "I'd put you and Andy into the bath tub. Wash you both. Then I'd put in fresh water for Cissy and wash her up whilst you two giggled your towels. Then I'd dry off Cissy's and Andy's hair; theirs was easy. But yours always needed braiding, and I didn't mind. I'd look at your pretty little face in my boudoir mirror and hum little songs to you and kiss your cheek and tell you goodnight."

"Oh." Bellatrix's throat felt tight all of a sudden. She raised her eyes and carefully reached inside the sleeve of her dress for her wand. She met her mother's face and asked, "What would you do if they sent Andromeda to your house?"

Druella sighed. "I'd have to send her away. She's… she belongs to them now. They'll try and use her against me. That's what your father says. They'll try and use Andy to get to you, to Cissy. To the Dark Lord."

"And would you turn her in? Would you treat her like an enemy?" Bellatrix demanded softly. Druella hesitated, and Bellatrix thought,  _Confundo._  Druella vibrated hard where she sat, and then her eyes glazed over and Bellatrix whispered, "If they were to try and use Andromeda against you, you must treat her like your very worst enemy."

Druella nodded solemnly. "I'd send for the Dark Lord at once. She is gone from our family."

_Confundo,_  Bellatrix thought again, and once more Druella buzzed where she sat. Bellatrix breathed in and out to steady her magic, and she said gently,

"You have two daughters who love you very much. Andromeda is not your daughter any more. She is your enemy, and you'd need to treat her as such if ever she came to your doorway. Do you understand?"

"Of course I understand." Druella nodded vigorously. "Albus Dumbledore wants to destroy everything. He would try to use Andromeda against us, but he would fail. They would all fail."

"Yes. Well done, Mum." Bellatrix tucked her wand away and cleared her throat gently. She flashed her mother a tiny little smile and said, "I'll have to try rose tea like you. I don't remember many types of tea."

"Well, you never much cared for the really dark, heavily caffeinated black teas," Druella said. "You always seemed to much prefer a more delicate tea, which was funny to me."

"Funny?" Bellatrix asked, and her mother shrugged.

"You are not a delicate girl, Bella; you never have been."

"Oh." Bellatrix shrugged. She dragged her finger over her teacup and asked softly, "Did Daddy have mistresses?"

Druella was quiet for a long moment, and then at last she said, "Your marriage to Rodolphus was carefully arranged, Bellatrix, but if he's mistreating you or if you are unhappy…"

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "We aren't unhappy," she said in a cautious voice, "but where are you going with this? Are you implying that there's a way out? I thought Purebloods scowled at the very notion of divorce."

"Well, of course," Druella nodded. "But your circumstances are more than a little unusual; you don't even remember your wedding day. I think if the two of you signed documents amicably splitting, and you had our support… are you displeased with your situation?"

Bellatrix thought about how she'd woken tangled up with Voldemort, about how Rodolphus was trying to woo the unmarried but very sweet Clara Abbott. Bellatrix gulped and told her mother,

"Rodolphus and I have separate… targets of our affections."

Druella shifted where she sat and her cheeks pinked. "I thought… forgive me, but I'd thought he had Stella Nott. But she's married."

"I've given him my full blessing to pursue someone else," Bellatrix said, "and I've got someone of my own."

"How is that possible?" Druella snapped, and Bellatrix pinched her lips. A sudden look of realisation came over Druella's face, and her lips parted in shock.

"Him?" she breathed, shaking her head a little. "No. Bella, you must be careful. He's too powerful. Too dangerous. You can't be…"

"Are you suggesting that Rodolphus and I could get an amicable divorce with yours and Daddy's blessing so that there was no social ramification?" Bellatrix asked, and Druella shook her head again.

"You need to be careful. This is frightening to me, the thought of you… Bellatrix, you've got a marriage. Stay with it and -"

"I'd like to divorce Rodolphus," Bellatrix said firmly. "I'd like to get papers drawn up to divorce Rodolphus. He'll do it in a flash. I know he will."

"Bellatrix," Druella said, shutting her eyes, and Bellatrix thought,  _Confundo._

Druella vibrated very vigorously where sat, and Bellatrix said quite firmly,

"You and Daddy really should help Rodolphus and me draw up amicable divorce papers. That way, he'll be free to pursue his new romantic pursuit, and I'll be free to be with whomever I please. Don't you want your daughter happy?"

"Of course I do," Druella nodded. Bellatrix smirked and nodded.

"So you'll talk to Daddy and have him and Rodolphus get the papers together?"

"Of course I will," Druella said, sipping her tea. Bellatrix sighed and thought again,  _Confundo._

"And if Andromeda were to come to you for any reason…?"

"She is an enemy," Druella said. Bellatrix smiled a little and released her slight grip on her wand, sliding it back into her sleeve.

"Thank you so much, Mum, for coming to tea."

* * *

"My Lord. Thank you for seeing me whilst the ladies have tea." Cygnus Black III sat slowly in the chair opposite Lord Voldemort in his office. Voldemort nodded and folded his hands on his desk.

"How are you holding up?" he asked flatly, and Cygnus hesitated.

"I feel like I've lost everything, My Lord," he said at last. "My eldest daughter. My middle daughter. My mother. So much loss recently."

"Well, you haven't lost Bella," Voldemort said, immediately wishing he'd used her full name. He frowned at himself, and Cygnus seemed mildly confused, but he just gave Voldemort a sad look and said,

"She doesn't remember when she was a little girl and I'd push her in the little swing in our garden," Cygnus said sorrowfully. "She doesn't remember the day we sent her off to Hogwarts for the first time, when she touched my hand through the glass of the Hogwarts Express. I do feel like I've lost her, a bit. Not as badly as Andromeda, but… still."

"I am taking good care of Bellatrix," Voldemort said, almost harshly. Cygnus' brows furrowed, and he studied Voldemort's face a little. He nodded.

"Thank you, Master."

"I wish… erm… I hope that she and Rodolphus might be presented with the option of an easy, friendly divorce, if they wish it," Voldemort said very delicately, measuring his words. "They are friends. Good friends. But they should each be free to pursue… erm… other options."

"Other options." Cygnus seemed a bit perplexed. "Stella Nott got married."

Voldemort flicked his eyes toward the bookshelf beside him, and he said delicately,

"She is different now than she was before, and both she and Rodolphus care deeply for one another. They want the others' happiness. That does not mean a romantic life together, and Bellatrix deserves better than to be the wife of a husband with a mistress. She deserves… erm… she deserves…"

"My Lord?" Cygnus' voice was very quiet then, and Voldemort sighed as he turned his face toward the man who had once been a younger, clinging student when he himself had been Tom Riddle. He could read the question in Cygnus' face, and Voldemort just nodded silently. Cygnus touched at his forehead and looked surprised, but he licked his bottom lip and said,

"I think Rodolphus would be happier if he were allowed to chase after Clara Abbott on his own, and I think Bellatrix would be happier… you know what I'm getting at, I think, Cygnus; you're a bright man."

"I'll speak to Rodolphus," Cygnus nodded, "and to Bellatrix, of course."

"Good man." Voldemort nodded crisply and sat in silence for a while, and then he finally said, "You may go now. Go ahead and fetch Druella. When you say farewell to Bellatrix, send her in here, will you?"

"Yes, My Lord," Cygnus said. After he'd gone, Voldemort stood and stared out his office window onto the gardens below, watching Druella and Cygnus head out the front door. After awhile, Bellatrix knocked on his office door, and he reached over his shoulder to wandlessly open the door for her. She walked up behind him, her footsteps soft on the ground, and Voldemort asked quietly,

"Did you Confound your mother successfully?"

"Yes, Master," Bellatrix said. "I also found out that Rodolphus and I could get a divorce without it being a social nightmare. I had absolutely no idea that was possible."

Voldemort frowned at the window. "You didn't know that?"

"No." Bellatrix came up to stand beside him, and he silently reached to snare his fingers through his. He gulped and admitted,

"I might have been discussing that very issue with your father in here. I… I think perhaps you and Rodolphus might be better off as friends. If he were free to pursue Clara Abbott or whomever else and you were… if you were free to…"

"To be fully yours with absolutely no barrier to that?" Bellatrix suggested, and Voldemort struggled to make a sound then.

"Yes."

Bellatrix squeezed at his fingers.

"All you have to do is command Rodolphus. He will obey you. He'll sign whatever papers you will him to sign. And my parents will, too."

Voldemort let out a shaking little breath and turned his face toward Bellatrix as he informed her crisply,

"I would never marry you in a thousand years, you realise. You'd always be Bellatrix Lestrange."

"I know." She curled up her lips and reached for his jaw. "But he'd be free to marry whatever girl he wanted, whatever girl wanted him back, and I'd be  _yours_  in a way that convinced even you. Master."

"I'll see to it that the papers are drawn up," Voldemort nodded, looking back out the window. "Well done Confounding your mother."

**Author's Note: For mental health reasons, this story may need to go on hiatus for an indefinite period of time that I hope turns out to be short. I am not mentally well at the moment (if you've followed me in the past, you'll know that I have Schizoaffective Disorder, Bipolar Type as well as OCD, PTSD, and hypergraphia). I may be headed inpatient tonight, and they don't allow computers in there. Apologies for any delays in updates and I thank you for your readership and understanding.**


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note: Thank you very much for all the PMs inquiring about my wellbeing. Unfortunately, I'm going into the hospital tonight for an indefinite period, so for very personal reasons, I'm concluding this story here. Thank you for your understanding, and I do hope to be back writing Bellamort sometime in the future. Thank you for reading.**

"Bella." Rodolphus came dashing down the corridor of Malfoy Manor, and she gasped as he yanked her into a lounge.

"What's the matter?" she demanded, and Rodolphus panted,

"Thank you.  _Thank you._ "

"What, for divorcing you?" Bellatrix smirked, and Rodolphus gulped.

"You don't understand. Signing those papers may have saved my hide," Rodolphus said, and Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. Rodolphus grabbed Bellatrix's shoulders and whispered, "Clara's pregnant. Somehow, she got pregnant the first time."

"Oh, Rodolphus." Bellatrix shut her eyes and touched at her forehead. "What have you done?"

"I care for her!" Rodolphus hissed, and Bellatrix snapped,

"Well, does she care for you back?"

Rodolphus nodded vigorously. "She wants to marry me. She wants us to keep the child. She wants to be my wife, to raise our baby together, Bella."

Her eyes welled all of a sudden, and she nodded. She hadn't expected to feel emotional about any of this. She hardly remembered Rodolphus, anyway. She'd moved all of her belongings out of Castle Lestrange a few weeks earlier, putting some of them back into her parents' home and some here into Malfoy Manor. But she murmured,

"Now people are going to think that we got divorced because you got your mistress pregnant."

A look of realisation came over Rodolphus' face, and he nodded.

"I understand. This… I'm sorry."

"No. I'm happy for you," Bellatrix insisted. "And I've heard whispers that Rabastan's got a bit of a fling with Phoebus Shacklebolt. So it would seem that Castle Lestrange is bursting at the seams with love."

Rodolphus seemed sorrowful then, and he insisted,

"Of course I'd never expect you to… you know, for anyone in your family to be anywhere near the wedding. It'll just be a small little gathering, anyway."

"Mmm-hmm." Bellatrix squeezed at Rodolphus' hands, and she reached up to kiss his cheek. "Congratulations, Rodolphus. I'm so happy for you."

"Bella." Rodolphus cradled her face in his hands, and for a moment she was afraid he was going to kiss her. She shook her head, and then mercifully a voice in the doorway said quietly,

"Rodolphus. I've just heard the news. Congratulations on your upcoming marriage to Clara Abbott."

"My Lord," Rodolphus nodded, stepping back.

"And on his new baby," Bellatrix said, swiping at her eyes a little. Voldemort furrowed his brows, and he said rather sternly,

"You'll need to marry the girl very quickly, then."

"Yes, Master. We plan to marry within the month. Well, in three weeks' time, actually, at Castle Lestrange. I've told Bella, reassured her, that of course she needn't be within a hundred miles, but -"

"Malfoy Manor is only twenty-seven miles away," Voldemort said lightly. "And it would be particularly inelegant to visibly exclude your amicably separated arranged wife from your new wedding. Far better that she be there in a friendly capacity."

Rodolphus seemed shocked. "But, My Lord -"

"She'll attend on my arm," Voldemort said firmly. "Won't you, Bella?"

Bellatrix blinked through the hot tears that had formed in her eyes, and she just nodded.

"If you command it, Master."

"Well. That's settled, then," Voldemort said. "Congratulations, Rodolphus."

* * *

"Why do I feel like this?" Bellatrix asked quietly, and she studied her reflection in the mirror. This was a very informal wedding, so she'd worn a knee-length black silk dress with a braided rope belt and knee-high heeled boots. She'd arranged her curls into a chignon, and she'd done her makeup with winged eyeliner and frosty lipstick. She thought she looked relatively pretty, but it didn't feel like enough. She asked again in a murmur, "Why do I feel like this?"

"Because he was your husband." Voldemort stepped up beside her, wearing dress robes of elegant black brocade, and he gently took Bellatrix's right hand in his. She frowned in confusion as he slid something onto her right ring finger. Her hands were bare now; she now longer wore her wedding rings from Rodolphus. But this was her right hand. It meant nothing, did it?

He pushed a ring onto her finger, a band so thick on the top that it went from one knuckle to the next. It was made of oxidised silver and shaped like a jacket of aggressive armour, giving it a highly assertive look. There was a bezel-cut peridot sitting above the wrap-style ring, and Bellatrix smiled down at the lime green stone against the darkened silver. She smiled up at Voldemort and asked quietly,

"A gift? For me?"

"I am in love with you," he mumbled, dragging his thumb over her ring, and he kissed her forehead. "I want you to remember that tonight."

"Yes, Master." Bellatrix reached up to hold his cheek, and she promised him, "I'm going to fight for you. Even though I'll still be Bellatrix Lestrange, I'm fully yours. Wholly and completely and fully yours. You know it, I hope."

"I do know it," he nodded. "And come whatever battles may, those memories will be new and fresh in your mind. Whatever came before… it doesn't matter, Bellatrix. All that matters is what happens henceforth. All that matters is now, and the path before. And you are mine."

He picked up her left arm, and he kissed at her Dark Mark, and he gave her a little smirk and a nod.

"Let's go," he said, and he led her away.

THE END.


End file.
